


Birthday

by helena_s_renn, Helenas_bitch, orphan_account



Series: Teh Winchesters [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, First Time, Het, Multi, Pre-Series, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 08:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 53,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helenas_bitch/pseuds/Helenas_bitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam turns fifteen two weeks after Dean ended their relationship. In order to celebrate Sam's birthday, Dean decides to get him laid – with a girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Sam is 15.  
> This is RPG-fic. It doesn't read like 'regular' fiction.

* * *

Sam woke up in a glum mood, just like he had every day for the past two weeks. After the monumental blow-up with Dean, they'd driven to Bobby's place, where Dean and Dad had left and put the spirits of two sisters to rest. Sam had stayed with Bobby, and although he liked and respected the older hunter, he'd still missed Dean so much that even Bobby's library held little comfort for him.

When Dean and Dad returned, it had become even worse. Bobby's house had so many rooms that Sam didn't have to share with Dean – make that he wasn't _allowed_ to share with Dean. He'd tried to sneak into his brother's room a few times, but Dean had sent him away, hissing that the walls had ears and it was too risky with Dad and Bobby around, and besides, why wouldn't Sam finally understand that and why it was over between them?

Sam didn't know whether or not to be happy that today was his birthday. He was annoyed that Dad wasn't there – as always, he'd promised to be there for Sam's celebration, but he never made it, and Sam wasn't expecting a surprise on that end. Bobby had left with John to take care of a poltergeist, which meant that Sam was alone with Dean. On any other day until two weeks ago, that would have made Sam very happy, but now... Announcing his birthday wish to Dean had spawned the fight that had set them apart for the first time in their lives. Suddenly, Sam decided that he'd had enough. What did he have to lose, after all? 

His mind made up, Sam padded over to his brother's bedroom. The door was unlocked, and the even breathing told him that Dean was sleeping. Quietly, so as not to wake him, Sam slid under the blanket and hoped that the past two weeks had only been a bad dream.

* * *

Waaarrmmm... Dean slept for more than a couple hours for the first time in days. He was having a dream, a really nice dream. Instead of fighting evil, chasing clues after fire and men with yellow eyes, he was locked in the kind of 3-D, full-on senses dream on the lingering edge of REM sleep that made him sweat and shift his hips and get hard. Gods, it felt good, having his partner with him. "Mmmm, baby," Dean murmured, rolling to his side to spoon behind the long lanky body. Felt so good... he rolled his hips... Oh, yeah...

Wait a fucking second. Dean had gone to bed alone, same as every night for the past two weeks, when he did at all. Who-? 

Oh, shit. Sam. For a minute, Dean was sorely tempted to pretend he was still sleeping and lie there with his brother. Only it wouldn't stop at that. He would touch Sam, taste him, _take him_ if he didn't get away from him this second!

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean growled, shoving Sam away from him and onto the floor. 

* * *

Half-asleep next to his brother, Sam made little content noises. He couldn't imagine how he'd survived so long without having Dean close to him. When Dean rubbed against him, hardened, and called him Baby, a warm feeling spread in Sam's belly that was much, much more than lust – although lust was there, too. Not only did he love Dean, but he was _in love_ with him as well, and now he was finally with him again, loved and safe.

Sam sighed happily – and then, all of a sudden, he found himself on the floor. He landed on his left wrist, but the pain bursting from his heart hurt more than any physical injury could have.

"'M not doing anything, jus' tryin' to sleep," Sam tried to keep his voice steady as tears began to form. "I miss you..."

* * *

"Yeah, well, you're not sleeping with me," Dean stated the obvious. The moon was out, shining though a gap in the curtains, and he could make out the form of Sam huddled on the floor, could hear the sound of pain in his voice. 

This sucked. He hated pushing Sam away, but he had to quit coddling him and allowing him liberties. His brother wasn't a little kid any more, and if he ever was going to hunt, he needed to be tough, both in body and mind. Already he was as tall as Dean and still growing, wiry muscles beginning to bulk, book-smart and well on his way to being an expert debater, his sexuality practically oozing from every pore. It was hard not to want that as his own. 

But no, not anymore. Dean had ended it – them – and that was that. No way he was going to back down now. Call it his stubborn streak, and pride. But he also knew he couldn't fuck his little brother and keep hiding it. Them. For almost two years, they'd kept it hidden from their father. Besides the threat of imminent death or banishment, whatever the hunter form of that was, probably simply being tossed at the side of the road with nothing but the clothes on his back, Dean had never had what anyone would call 'a relationship' and he knew – knew – that claiming Sam as his own would mean an end to the secrecy, and likely one or both of the afore-mentioned ends. 

Sighing, Dean removed the edge from his voice. "I know you do. Me, too. Okay? But just... Go to bed. In your own room!" At Bobby's, there were more than enough beds for everyone. He didn't add, 'don't tempt me', but it was there. Just something more he had to train out of Sam – and himself. In the future, there was sure to be times they'd have to share a bed again, and Dean needed to learn to distance himself now, while he still could. 

* * *

Sam sat up on the floor, hoping he didn't look as miserable as he felt. His wrist hurt, but he could move it, so it wasn't broken – Sam shuddered. Having to explain to Dad that Sam, a hunter in training, had broken his wrist falling from the bed – Dean's bed – would have taken the cake, probably the only thing that could make his situation any worse.

He would never really understand why Dean had ended it, them. It was clear from his brother's face and voice that he wouldn't change his mind, not this time, and that there was nothing Sam could do. Regardless of how much he'd beg and plead – which he'd already done a lot, practically every time he caught Dean when they didn't have company – Sam was alone from now on. That Dean had just admitted he missed Sam, too, made it even harder because why had Dean ended something he clearly wanted? But he knew that he'd receive no answer if he asked.

Feeling like the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders, Sam slowly got up. Dean's face was closed off, emotionless. His own must be the opposite, he knew although he couldn't see it, but the tears were streaming down his face now and he couldn't be bothered about looking like a girl. He was losing what mattered most in his life, what kept him sane in the mad hunters' world, and that fucking entitled him to emotions. If that got him kicked out of being a hunter, even better; he'd never wanted to be one anyway.

He stared at Dean for a full minute, and Dean stared back without blinking. Sam knew what was going on behind his brother's facade, but he didn't waver until he couldn't bear it any longer.

"I love you," he whispered and knelt on the bed, wrapped his arms around his brother before Dean could push him back, and kissed his lips. He let go again instantly and fled the room, slamming the door behind him so he didn't hear the rejection that was sure to come.

* * *

Sam stared at him from the floor; it went on and on. Dean couldn't see his eyes, but he could damned sure feel it, and was grateful for the blanket covering him. Sam's presence, along with his scent and the promise of closeness, had done nothing to shrivel his sleep-induced erection. 'Be strong,' he told himself, willing his face into a sphinx-like mask. 

From the uneven little gasps of Sam's breathing, Dean knew his brother was crying. Again, he willed his heart to turn to stone. All his life, he'd taken care of Sam, fixed his boo-boos, helped him back up after a fall, listened to his tales of woe when he got hassled at school, even stepping in a time or three when grade-school Sam drew bigger bullies. Every instinct tugged at him to help his brother. Now, he could do nothing. Any move on his part and he'd have Sam in his arms and under him, or he'd be crying, himself. 'You can't', he repeated silently in his head for the millionth time. 

After an eon, Sam made to go, or so Dean thought. Instead, Sam bounded up and onto the bed. Clenching his fists, Dean readied himself to react suddenly and violently, yet he held still, with the justification that he couldn't keep his brother from 'normal' proximity and contact or John would get suspicious. They couldn't afford that. Well, he couldn't. Only time would tell if Sam would spill the whole story out of revenge or misery. 

His brother came came closer, closer, too close. Alarm bells rang in Dean's mind that he would have to act. Before he could make himself strike, Sam hugged him. Dean suppressed a groan. Why did he have to feel so goddamned perfect? A hug was just a hug; he wasn't cruel enough to refuse that, even if he didn't hug back. But he should have refused – Sam graced Dean's frozen lips with one wet, salty kiss, then he backed away and ran out of the room. The door banged shut in his wake. 

Damned kid! Dean waited a full two minutes till he was sure no one would show up to investigate. The house remained quiet, other than the occasional creaks all old houses made. Letting out his breath, Dean slid back down on the mattress, on his side. He could still taste and feel Sam's kiss on his tingling mouth. The space in front of him was noticeably cold and empty. No Sammy. "Dammit!" he hissed, a combination of grief and frustration. When would Sam learn? He had to stop trying to corner Dean, to coerce him. Unable to argue logical reason and win, Dean had resorted early on to stonewalling and the silent treatment. 

Miserable, Dean blinked and let his tears come, smothering any sound in the pillow. And fucking A, he still _needed_ , maybe worse than before, which was confusing as hell. How could he be this miserable and still want... it? He didn't dare say 'Sam' or he'd relent. 

Once his few choking sobs had run their course, Dean reached stealthily into his sleep pants. Might as well practice how to do this unnoticed now, he thought bitterly. God only knew when it would be too much down the road and he'd have to do this undetected with Sam at his back. It only took a few squeezes, a flick of his thumb across the slit, and two or three real strokes before he was cumming into his hand, a tremor running through him. It accomplished release, no real pleasure. Wiping his hand clean on the sheet, Dean hated his own guts. But at least he could sleep. Anything was better than thinking about it. 

* * *

Sam fled from Dean's room, but he couldn't return to his own. It was early in the morning, way too early to get up, but he felt so listless and dejected that he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The only part of his life that he liked was basically over.

Stepping out of the house, his eyes fell on the Impala. The last time he and Dean had been together had been the day Dean had received her as a gift from their Dad. They'd made love in the back seat, then Dean had freaked when Sam had licked his hole, after cumming spectacularly. Later, they'd 'christened' the Impala's hood. Dean had shot on Sam's hole, and then things had deteriorated into the worst day of his life.

Rage rose up in Sam. Suddenly, he felt the urge to hurt his brother just as Dean was hurting him. The temptation to smash Dean's 'Baby' was getting stronger, in particular since Dean had come home more than once smelling of cheap perfume since they'd arrived at Bobby's place, and Sam was sure that Dean got laid regularly in the back seat. Ruining the car might even provoke Dean enough to kill Sam, end him for real, just like he'd ended their love. 

But he couldn't do it. If the Impala was the only thing Dean loved, depriving him of her would make Dean as miserable as Sam felt, and he wouldn't wish that on anybody. Still, there was another way for him to make his statement.

Sam pulled his sleep pants down and stood before the Impala as he stroked himself erect – the despair had taken even that away from him. Biting down on his lower lip while he worked himself roughly, it didn't take long until he came, spraying the Impala's hood, determined to leave the evidence there for Dean to see. 

Although he'd cum hard, Sam hadn't enjoyed it. He tucked himself away, feeling disgusted by himself, and went upstairs for a shower, then dressed in sweat pants and an old t-shirt. He was hungry now but couldn't be bothered to go down to the kitchen and make breakfast. Not even the prospect of coffee was tempting enough, so he'd just stay in his room. Nobody cared about him anyway; Dad and Bobby were on their hunt and Dean would be happy if Sam was gone. Maybe that was the best idea, he'd just leave and never bother him again. And Dad would be glad, too, if he were gone, not having to take care of a useless son and even more useless hunter.

But right now, he didn't have the energy to make plans, so he just kept sitting on his bed and staring at the walls.

* * *

When Dean awoke again, it was mid-morning. For once, he felt rested, no doubt thanks to the literally mind-numbing orgasm. 

There was no sign or sound from Sam, for which Dean was both grateful and sorry. Life was going to be one huge muddle of mixed emotions for a while, or it would be if he kept allowing himself to feel them. He had no idea how to shut them off, but he could refrain from talking about them or showing them. 

For the moment, Dean decided, he needed a shower; no use smelling like dried cum. Grabbing some clean jeans, boxers, and a Henley, Dean ducked down the hall and into the upstairs bathroom. The original set-up in the old house was a huge claw-footed tub, but Bobby had re-rigged the plumbing to include a shower at the end of a flexible hose that clipped to a holder on the wall, and he'd also hung a wrap-around metal shower bar that it took two vinyl curtains to go around. 

Dean started the water, stripped, and stepped in. He wondered again what Sam was doing. The kid's birthday was just around the corner and he'd promised to, and he cringed inwardly, get him laid. With a woman. While Dean accepted that Sam preferred men – well, him, anyway – he also believed that Sam needed to experience the other side at least once before deciding for sure. Sam's life would just be easier if it turned out he was straight after all. 

Which led to, Dean had no idea these days what he himself was. Probably bi. His own experiences were so, collectively, messed up, it wasn't like he'd had any option to really choose. He hated what he'd been made to do, as a teenaged hustler. Those times ranged from unpleasant to painful to heinous, and he wished to god he could make the earth open up and swallow that portion of his life. Getting off with women was no problem – those girls were straight, they wanted his body, his dick, his sperm probably, the biological response, and he didn't pick prude chicks. Sam, he was a dude, obviously, but nothing about what they'd done set off the rage and shame of whoring himself to men. Their pleasure, not even full-on sex, was the most intense he'd had. But that was over, and Sam deserved better than the likes of him, anyway. 

Jeez, talk about your depressing bullshit. Dean had picked up a couple of chicks since 'then'. It was odd, touching female flesh again, but he supposed, like riding a bike, one didn't forget how. He would just stop thinking about that, too, in favor of lining up Sam's present. At least the kid had agreed. Under duress, yeah, Dean screaming at him in the middle of the worst fight of their lives, but he wouldn't back out. He never had before, unofficial dare or not. 

Tonight he'd go into town and see if that girl he'd met before was still around. Dean had planned for this to happen in the last town, but John had pulled them out of there after Dean had earned the highest fee of his life. This girl was probably only a couple years older than Dean, and looked younger than her age. He would spend his tip from those Jersey brothers to make sure Sam had a good time. Hell, she'd probably do it for free. 

But for now, though he wasn't hungry, Dean needed coffee. At last he finished his shower, dressed, and went downstairs, wandering impatiently around Bobby's office while the coffee brewed. 

* * *

How many hours had he been sitting in his room? Sam couldn't tell when he was pulled from his stupor by the sounds and smell of the coffee-maker. Noticing that he felt like he was starving now made him even more miserable than before because now he'd missed the opportunity of making breakfast without encountering his brother. 

Sam kept his eyes to the floor when he entered the kitchen. Dean wasn't there, but Sam could hear him in Bobby's office. If he skipped the coffee, he might be able to escape with some food before Dean returned. Rummaging around in the fridge, Sam made a couple of slices of toast and grabbed some cheese, then poured himself a glass of milk. Just when he thought that luck was on his side, he heard Dean's footsteps approaching.

His hands tightened into fists. If he spoke to Dean, he'd crack, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to take yet another rejection. Milk in one hand, bread and cheese in the other, Sam looked down again when he brushed past Dean, calling out, "Good morning." It was the worst morning ever, but at least Dean couldn't complain about his manners.

* * *

The coffee maker began spitting out more bubbling noises and steam, signaling the end of the brewing cycle. About then, Dean hear Sam come downstairs and start rummaging in the fridge. Great. Time to face the music. Dean, confronted by Sam's ass sticking out of the open fridge door, stood awkwardly gawking, managing to close his mouth before he was caught. 

Sam brushed by him in the opposite direction chirping, "Good morning!" with false cheer. It caught him so off guard he couldn't even mumble a return grumpy, "'Mornin'," till Sam was gone. 

A look out the kitchen window told Dean that it was foggy outside. Must have been some kind of thick bank of it that it hadn't burned off already. To the east, it was lighter with a watery yellow-white circle radiating, where he assumed the sun was ascending in the sky. That would do. He'd lose himself in the scrapyard for a while. Let Sam watch his own ass. Pouring a large, covered cup of coffee and doctoring it with milk and sugar, Dean found his dad's old leather jacket and took off out the front door. 

Despite the rusting junk-heaps everywhere, the air was fresh outside, and he breathed in deeply. When they'd been kids, he and Sam had spent hours out there, making forts and pretend-hunting. That neither of them ever got tetanus was a minor miracle – his dad didn't hold to the standardized vaccination schedule. Walking by Baby on the way to Bobby's shop, Dean whipped his head around for a second look at- what the fuck? At first he thought, bird shit, but. No. There was only one possibility. Sam had beat off on his car. 

A rapid-fire flashback brought Dean back to them, only a few short weeks ago, christening her with criss-crossing lines of their seed. Their 'stuff'. Their love. Dean found himself on his knees. He told himself it was to take a closer look. He'd have added to the puddle if he'd thought he could even get it up. No, nose to splotch, and he was leaking again. Saltwater. 

Suddenly, he was pissed as hell. How dare Sam push him? Not fucking _listen_ to him? Sure, the kid had his own mind and he could think what he wanted, but the only sensible thing... Maybe when Sam was older, when they were more independent... But now they'd never know, would they?! Dean set his coffee mug down far from the traces of Sam's desecration. "Sorry, Baby!" Dean groaned. He undid his belt, button, zipper, pulled out his for-once uncooperative, soft cock, took aim, and pissed, obliterating what Sam had done. He hoped that the little fucker was spying on him. 

Finished, Dean fixed his clothes and stalked off. 

* * *

So this was how much Dean valued their love, Sam thought as he watched him eliminate all traces of Sam from the Impala's hood – by pissing on it. Sam ground his teeth. Okay, if his brother was spoiling for outright war, Sam wouldn't deny him: he'd find a way to make Dean suffer from unrequited love as much as Dean hurt Sam.

His chin pushed up with determination, Sam made his way to Bobby's study, convinced he'd find a suitable spell somewhere in the older hunter's extensive library.

* * *

After three hours outside, trudging through the junkyard, the fields beyond, and a wooded area along a meandering creek, the painful clinch around Dean's heart loosened up to some degree. He even smiled, at the partridge hen that flew up in front of him, flopping around in the display meant to draw predators away from her nest. He also flushed a couple of hares. Yeah, woof, he thought. His dad would appreciate such slobbering devotion.

The fog burned off, other than a few wisps in low-lying hollows. While Dean wasn't a back-to-nature boy, he did appreciate the chance to stretch his legs. Definitely hungry, he thought ahead to what might be had in Bobby's fridge or freezer. He knew what he wanted – a bacon cheeseburger. He'd cook hamburgers for Sam, too, and let him put his own toppings on. He'd have to make sure there were buns, before he got started. A quick trip to town would be preferable to discussing 'buns' with Sam. 

Before he went in, Dean followed a garden hose he'd noticed snaking through the weeds to an outside spigot. It wasn't hooked up, so he did that and turned on the water. He'd bet it hadn't been used in years – the water took forever to appear. Then, he dragged the length over to Baby and washed down her hood. He had a chamois cloth in the trunk, and with that, he dried and polished her till she shone. Let Sam try to mess with her again. Maybe Dean would go whack off on his toothbrush, or hair brush. He nearly giggled to consider Sam's hair after _that_. 

"Sam...?" he called as he walked in through the kitchen door. Dean didn't especially expect an answer. It was just habit. Shrugging, he checked the breadbox first. Yeah, there were plenty of hamburger buns. There was no meat thawed, but Dean was experienced in using the low setting on the microwave for that. He tapped his fingers on the cabinet, jamming to AC/DC in his head while waited for the 'ding'. 

* * *

If Sam had hoped to distract himself with the search for a love spell, it didn't work. The more he read, the more he missed what he and Dean had shared. He jumped up so suddenly from his chair that the book he'd been reading fell to the floor. Sam couldn't care less. He needed Dean. He'd _die_ if he couldn't have Dean, his Dean, back.

Just then, Sam heard his name being called from the kitchen, and it hit him once again that 'his' Dean was gone, forever. Where he'd felt energetic only a second before, ready to run for his brother and tell him they _must_ make up, that everything was going to be fine, that their love would never fade, the feeling of doom he'd lived the past two weeks settled over him again.

Sam bent down to pick up the book. It was heavy and his wrist still felt sore, and suddenly, the effort seemed too much. Also, as angry he was with Dean for denying him, did he really want his brother to suffer? It wouldn't bring Dean back. But what was he supposed to do? There was nothing that could ever return the light to Sam's life. 

He slumped back in his chair and stared at Bobby's book shelves. His life was over before it had begun for real.

* * *

It didn't take more than 20 minutes to put lunch together. Once Dean threw the burgers in the pan, he started bacon frying in a second. He periodically flipped and drained the grease into a large empty metal coffee can that Bobby kept stowed near the sink for that purpose. 

By the time Dean had transferred everything to the kitchen table and found plates, Sam still hadn't shown his face. Unless he'd fallen asleep, he should be able to smell the food. "Sam... Lunch!" Dean called out. 

It would kind of fall flat if his brother boycotted his cooking. His charge to take care of Sam had not been lifted. It wasn't lost on him that the food was a peace offering, poor as it might be. Slumping into a chair, Dean slapped a burger patty on a bun, and added cheese, bacon, and ketchup. Whether Sam was ignoring him or whatever, Dean was still hungry. He took a big bite, moaning. He did tend to get a little too carried away about his burgers and pie. 

* * *

Although he was hungry, Sam took a long time debating whether he should eat. Lunch meant Dean, and seeing his brother was the last thing he wanted. In the end, guilt made the decision for him. Dean had cooked for him and food must not be wasted. If Dad found out that Dean hadn't made Sam eat, there'd be hell to pay.

Trying to make himself small, which was impossible since he'd hit another growth spurt recently, he tiptoed into the kitchen and prepared a burger. He sat down at the table without looking at Dean and started to eat, but immediately, the tears started again. Sam tried to swallow them down, but it didn't help. 

When he forced himself to remain calm as he laid the barely-touched burger on the plate and left the room, he hated himself. This wasn't going to work. 

* * *

Sam finally appeared, but he only had a couple of bites, then picked at his food. A hitch in his breathing told Dean exactly how okay Sam was not, but he didn't look up, not wanting to embarrass the kid. Just look at Dean's own performance this morning – he was as bad. Sam got up and walked away without a word, and Dean didn't call after him. What was he supposed to do? There was nothing he could say to make this any easier. 

After a while, Dean stood, stretched, and cleaned the kitchen. It was too damned quiet; he turned on the TV for some background noise. Nothing but stupid daytime soaps on two channels, a kiddie program singing numbers and letters on the third. He switched back to the soap. Next, he started on the guns, getting out the gun oil, taking every piece apart, cleaning and inspecting, then putting them back together. Since he'd been doing this as part of his training, starting at the age of seven or so, Dean could field strip and reassemble all of them in no time with his eyes closed, but he took his time. He and Sam each had a handgun and a shotgun, and Dad had left a couple things behind. After a short bathroom break, he decided to hone all the knives. When he was done, he rounded up all of Bobby's kitchen knives, too, although most of them were sharp enough to split a hair already. 

What the hell was Sam doing? Dean hadn't heard a sound from him since lunch, and it was approaching late afternoon. Reading, he supposed. It wasn't normal for them – whatever that was – to ignore each other all day. Though it had been two weeks the loss of camaraderie still cut. What the hell. They were going to have to learn to deal with each other somehow, sometime. Mentally girding himself, Dean rose from the chair and checked the living room. No Sam. So, the office again. "Hey, Sam, what are you up to?" 

* * *

The afternoon was as much of a waste of time as the morning had been. Sam wished for the evening to arrive so he could go to bed although he knew that sleep wouldn't come – it hadn't worked in the past, so why would that change now? Now that he'd gathered his courage last night and snuck in with Dean only to be kicked out, he knew that the nights would be even worse from now on since his last hope had been shattered.

Bobby's library had always been a happy place for him, a treasure trove of information, more books on supernatural topics than Sam could remember ever seeing in one place anywhere else. Today, it had lost its charm. He tried, really tried to focus on his reading. After his initial, admittedly stupid idea of finding a love spell for Dean, Sam had changed his plan and was now desperate in a search for a spell or anything to stop loving his brother, but he hadn't found even a hint on how that could be achieved.

The day passed and Sam was hungry, but he also felt empty, drained and listless. Even his pain seemed to vanish in the gray nothingness that surrounded him. When Dean appeared and asked him what he was up to, Sam could only shrug. He wasn't up to anything, and that was maybe the worst admission to make: during his entire life, Sam had _always_ been up to something; there had always been something he needed to explore, find out, read up on. 

It cost him a tremendous effort, but he managed to sit up straighter. There had to be _something_ , some way out of this mess. Sam knew that he wasn't the only one suffering, and that it couldn't go on like this, for neither of them. Cooking lunch had been a peace offering from Dean, one that Sam had – desperately! – wanted to accept, but couldn't when the tears had taken over. That Dean was searching him out now had to mean something. 

His mind told him that Dean loved him and that there was a good reason for giving up on their... _that_ part of their love. His emotions would never accept it, and he wanted to run, but then Dad would hold Dean responsible. No, there was no way out, and they had to find a way to make this work.

"Dean." Sam spoke but still couldn't face his brother. "Do you... think... could we just... go somewhere?"

* * *

"Yeah, why not?" Dean said. He flopped down in a chair opposite Sam, not looking at him directly for more than a split second. Anything was better than sitting around and wallowing, here. "I... I hate to say it but I doubt Dad and Bobby will make it back today. It's your birthday, we should do something." He didn't know quite how to bring up his previous plan, but he was still determined to do it. 

"Wanna go to a movie? Out to eat? What do you want to do?" 

* * *

"I dunno... Maybe if we could... just drive around? And have some food later, maybe?"

Sam's heart was beating fast. "I'm sorry about earlier. Everything, like, Baby. It's just..." And there were the damn tears again. 

"Do you love me?" Sam blurted out. "I don't mean... I mean..." he shrugged helplessly. "I dunno what I mean. But you're my brother and I can't live without you."

* * *

It was hard, hearing the desolation in Sam's voice. Poor kid, some fucking birthday he was having so far. His mouth was downturned, tipped-up eyes pleading, the right shading to aqua-blue and the left to green like they got when Sam was upset or angry.

"Alright, go get dressed," Dean said. "We'll figure out something." He paused. Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, but he plowed on. "Don't worry about Baby. I found a garden hose and cleaned it... her. No harm, no foul." And then the coup de grace, "Just keep your goo out of her back seat!" 

Realizing what he'd just made reference to, Dean hissed, "Sorry!" and jumped up, taking the stairs two at a time, he yelled over his shoulder, "Wear something nice!" 

And that was another thing. Sam probably didn't have anything nice. He and John had discussed taking Sam along on the twin sister ghost hunt, but instead he'd stayed behind with Bobby. Dean owned a dark gray suit – which he referred to as a monkey suit. The pants and jacket were itchy wool and he hated wearing a button down shirt and tie. Then there were his hooker clothes. Sam would probably freak if he got a load of Dean dressed like that. But the point was, Sam had neither of these options, probably just jeans and sweats, tees and plaid shirts, and lucky if they weren't too small or stained or holey. 

In the end, Dean put on second-newest jeans, and the shirt that went with the suit but with the first two buttons open and the sleeves rolled up. Scrunching his face, he decided he'd offer to let Sam wear the, er... bar clothes. Hey, he was tall enough, and they'd always been too tight on Dean, anyway, Sam was skinnier. As long as Dad never saw... And Dean would lie about where he had got them from, and when.

Of course, they'd been at the bottom of his suitcase. He didn't touch them, if he could help it. Dean shook the wrinkles out of the silky emerald-green shirt, smoothed the expensive designer jeans with artfully distressed knees, hem, and butt, and pocket detailing. Dean put it from his mind how fucking good Sam would look in clothes like that. 

His nerves were singing. But he had to go through with this now. He stepped into the hall, walked the few steps to Sam's door, and tapped his knuckles on the thick, dark-stained wood. "Sam, are you decent? I... I have something for you." 

* * *

Sam's heart sank even further when Dean didn't answer the question, but just told him to get dressed. And then Dean told him to keep out of the back seat. That was where Dean was getting laid – now that he didn't want Sam any longer, Dean seemed never short of other willing sex partners. It was a low blow and an answer to his question, after all.

He ran to the bathroom adjoining his bedroom, not to get dressed but to throw up till his already empty stomach spasmed in vain. He'd barely gotten his guts under control again when he heard Dean rapping on the door.

"Just a second," he choked. After quickly brushing his teeth, he slipped into jeans that were only three inches too short and a shirt that had fewer holes than most of his remaining clothes. Only then did it occur to him that Dean had never before asked him if he was decent before entering the room. And Dean had something for him? There was only one thing Sam wanted, and with every passing second the certainty grew that he would never, _never_ again have that.

Sam had spent the whole day thinking, trying to come up with a plan how to win Dean back. Until the morning, he'd assumed that Dean wanted him, too, but it became more and more clear that this wasn't the case. The only conclusion Sam had come to was that he couldn't do this. If Dean kept denying him, Sam would have to leave. Only, Dad would never let him go. And that gave him an idea. He and Dean had successfully pulled wool over Dad's eyes for the past two years. He'd just have to continue doing that, with the difference that he now had to make sure Dean was clueless about Sam's feelings and intentions, too, not only Dad.

After taking a deep breath, Sam opened the door. He still didn't meet Dean's eyes, but his voice was almost steady when he asked, with an effort, but still sounding casually, "Is this nice enough? It's the best I've got, I'm afraid."

* * *

Sam appeared after a minute, dressed but not what Dean would call presentable. Probably the popular kids at Sam's next school would laugh at his high-water pants and threadbare shirt; it just made Dean sad, that his beautiful little brother had no better. Some of the fault was his; he could have bought Sam clothes, he'd just never thought of it before. Not like he expected it, but Sam didn't look happy to see him. Gone were the days when his eyes would light up every time he glanced at Dean. Now it was as if looking at him put Sam's inner light out. 

"Here," Dean coughed and held up the clothes, holding the shirt by the collar, and the jeans draped over his forearm. "Take these. They'll look damned good on you; I outgrew them. While we're out, we'll buy you some new duds. For... school." Like Dean, he could wear his ratty old clothes for PT drills or hunting practice.

* * *

After a moment of awkward silence when Sam stepped out of his room, Dean gave him a shirt and a pair of jeans, claiming he'd outgrown them. Sam hid his frown at what must be a lie: he'd never seen Dean wearing these, there was no way that he could have missed that. Yet, when he changed into them – behind the closed door – he could clearly smell Dean's scent. 

On any other day, Sam would have picked up the challenge of finding out why he'd never seen Dean in these jeans and shirt before, but it hit him before he could even start wondering: this must be what Dean wore when he went out to get laid. Sam's first instinct was to rip the clothes off, but he caught himself just in time: Dean must be convinced that Sam was beginning to cope.

"Thank you," he said when he left his room again, still not looking at his brother. "They're nice, but I don't really need new clothes for school. My old ones do just fine and we don't have the money." There was another reason besides the true fact that they couldn't afford it that Sam didn't want new clothes: appearing poor helped him avoid attention from girls. However, if he admitted that, Dean would insist all the more.

* * *

Holy... Oh good Christ, now Dean was going to be hard and drooling all night. He'd just shot himself in the foot, figuratively speaking. But he couldn't take it back now unless he told Sam the clothes didn't look good on him and that would be a freaking lie. Dean had to cup his hands before him to hide the swelling. 

On Sam's longer torso, the shirt skimmed barely past the top of the jeans, and it fit Sam looser than Dean, making it a little more stylish and less whorish. And then those jeans... Dean had had to suck it in and pull, and they looked painted on. They fit Sam perfectly, low on his narrow hips and hugging his ass, accentuating the tight curve without being obscene. Bonus, they fell all the way to the floor, covering his shoes, which was the style, rather than showing Sam's ankles. Then, Dean allowed himself one second of staring at crotch, which hinted at what was beneath, versus how he knew on him there was no question to anyone of exactly what he was packing, before he turned away, embarrassed at how his body reacted. 

"Welcome. Yeah, nice, Sam. You keep them, they look good on you." Fuck Dad. He could buy Dean different hooker attire that was a little less 'sausage casing' on him, or let Dean do it. "Don't worry about the money situation, that's what I'm here for." And wasn't that the truth? "There's always Walmart. Stuff's cheap there." 

Rather than wait for another argument, Dean motioned Sam to follow him out once his back was safely turned. Downstairs, he put on his jacket and tucked in his handgun and knife, then grabbed Baby's keys. Normal stuff, anything to make his dick go soft. Sam hadn't come down yet, so Dean called out, "I'll wait outside in the car... Don't take all night, birthday boy." Hey, he could try to make this festive, couldn't he? 

* * *

The look Dean gave him made Sam consider a final attempt at seduction: despite his obvious attempts, Dean couldn't hide his erection, nor the fact that he was salivating. However, another rejection would be too much. These days, Sam wasn't often scared, but the sudden change in Dean's feelings for him was on the top of his list. He was relieved when Dean hurried away. 

Sam followed him less than a minute later, after he thought he'd regained enough composure to not break into tears again immediately or start to beg for a kiss. "So, Walmart," he said when he took his place in the passenger seat. "Is it okay if we grab something to eat first?"

Being in the Impala felt strange. Sam had ridden with Dad during their trip to Bobby's, and the only time he and Dean had ever been in the Impala alone had been _that_ day. He didn't want the memories to surface, and he was sure that neither did Dean. That his brother had referred to him as birthday boy made it only worse, since Sam's wish for a birthday gift had led to the whole mess.

Suddenly, he had an idea. There was something he could ask for his birthday that would at least make it easier for Dean. It was a gift that would cost Dean, but one he would give, and it would make him feel better, relieve the guilt Sam assumed his brother still felt somehow for ditching him.

"Dean," he began, "I was wondering about a birthday present." Dean tensed, but Sam pretended not to notice as he continued, "Would you let me... drive her?"

* * *

By the time Dean made it to the car, he had managed to get himself under control. Sam followed, and less than five minutes later they were on the road, headed toward Sioux Falls. "So whatcha want for dinner...? Mexican, Italian, Chinese? Or we could hit one of those all-you-can-eat joints and stuff our faces." 

But Sam had something else on his mind. Sure he was about to ask for sex, or something sexual anyway, Dean stared at the road, already anticipating another fight. But Sam surprised him, asking instead if he could drive Baby. Funny, he'd considered before that he'd be the one to teach Sam to drive, and soon, but the reality was a little too strange. Dean didn't think Sam would wreck her, he wasn't the reckless type. It was everyone else he didn't trust. But the kid needed to learn. 

"Yeah, dude, sure. You're overdue, I started driving when I was 12." Dean pulled over to the side of the country road, and got out.

* * *

If Sam had felt weird in the Impala a minute ago, he felt even weirder now that he was behind the wheel. They were on one of the minor roads and he didn't expect much traffic. Dad would have his hide if he got caught by the fuzz before he had a fake ID and driving license, but that wasn't the reason why he was suddenly nervous.

"This means a lot to me," he said in a quiet voice. "Thank you, Dean." On any other day, Sam would have hugged his brother, but he couldn't, not anymore. Instead, his hand caressed the steering wheel, and it felt almost as if he touched Dean. Almost. Sam smiled to himself. Maybe between his love for his brother and Dean's love for the Impala, he could still feel close to Dean.

Filled with something akin to awe, Sam put her into Drive and pressed lightly on the gas pedal, not trying to make her roar like Dean would, but gingerly, to get a feel for her. He was rewarded with a soft purr and she began to move, slowly and – although Sam couldn't see it but that's what it felt like to him – gracefully.

He took his foot off the gas pedal and braked, again carefully, then looked at Dean. For the first time in two weeks, he thought he could see a smile on his brother's face. Sam focused back on the road and accelerated slowly until he was driving at the legal limit: driving any slower would raise attention, and since the road led straight ahead, he was confident he could handle it.

"That's... Dude, she's awesome!"

* * *

Sam thanked him, for letting him drive he supposed, which Dean found a little odd; he probably should have done this sooner, even before Dad gave him the car. He hummed acknowledgment and let Sam go on getting comfortable, learning where everything was and where his body was, in relation. When Sam put his hands on the steering wheel, it was almost as if he were touching Dean. The blinker lever, the gearshift... Dean forced himself to remain still and silent, tingling from chest to groin. 

At first Sam just practiced starting and stopping, then accelerated to 65. It was exactly what Dean would have told him to do; the kid knew instinctively. As they flew down the road, Dean smiled proudly. God knew, he wasn't Sam's father but sometimes he felt like his parent, and right now, he couldn't imagine any parent being more proud of their own kids' milestones. 

_Dude, she's awesome!_ Dean laughed with delight. Maybe now Sam had a better idea why he was so attached. "Yeah, she's the best," he agreed fondly. "I never want another car. 'S why I love my Baby, all that power and badass-ery, right under my hands." He grinned wider. 

Something caught Dean's peripheral vision and he looked ahead at the road. They were fast approaching and 70's era Caddy, a real boat. "Oops, looks like it's a Sunday driver. Better slow down." Little old ladies in Cadillacs and Buicks were always trouble. He'd best school Sam in certain hazards. "Them, stupid high school rich kids in sports cars who wanna race, deer jumping out of nowhere – hit one of them at high speed and you could total a car. Okay, Sam, you want to pull over or pass her?" 

* * *

It was amazing what the metallic purr of Dean's car did to Sam. Asking if he could drive her had been a good idea. Dean was beaming at him and laughing with delight, and Sam felt better than he had in weeks.

Then they approached the Caddy and Dean told him to slow down while he educated Sam about particularly bad drivers. Sam had heard the lesson before, sometimes coated in curses and rants from Dad, sometimes with a major eye roll from Dean, but he listened and enjoyed his brother's earnest voice, telling him what he needed to know in order to be safe – Sam knew that it wasn't only out of concern for the Impala.

He felt his heart swell a moment later when Dean trusted him enough to decide what to do. Sam kept his distance while he thought for a moment before announcing his decision.

"I'm pulling over. I really want to pass her but I'd rather know better how your Baby handles acceleration at higher speed before trying such maneuvers." He swallowed. "I know how much she means to you, Dean, and I swear that I'll never do anything that could hurt her."

* * *

"Alright, you can try it some other time. She responds fast; there's a little kick to her." Dean had taken risks he maybe shouldn't have, back when he was a lot younger and the Impala was still their Dad's. Maybe the fact she'd never let him down had lightened his lead foot some – he didn't demand anything of her not necessary, these days. Sam was showing the same signs, pride of ownership and concern, both for Baby herself and for Dean. If they couldn't have each other, they could have – mutually – the car. She belonged to Dean, just as Sam always would, in his heart, but Sam would take care of her, too. 

'Get a grip, Deanna,' Dean prodded himself when his eyes misted over. Sam rolled to a stop, a little short, which made Dean grin again. "I know you'd never hurt her on purpose. So, uh, congratulations on your first drive. How did it feel?" Judging from the smile and animation of Sam's speech, pretty damned great. 

* * *

"How did it feel? Are you kidding me?" Sam's smile was real when he looked at Dean after braking. Suddenly, the awkwardness between them was gone. 

"Man, I'm... I'd understand if you'd never let anyone else touch her, so... she's incredible." He let his hand run over the dash. "I think I'm in love," he grinned. "Nothing to get jealous about, but, yeah, I get it why you love her."

After Dean had taken the driver's seat again, Sam watched him with different eyes. He'd always known how crazy his brother was about the Impala, but now he thought he could _feel_ it, share Dean's emotions. Considering the kind of life they had, it suddenly made sense to him that Dean would feel such a strong attachment to an inanimate object. 

_Especially now that he doesn't love you any longer._

Sam looked down and to the side, touched the window lever and rubbed it absentmindedly. His, Sam's, love would go unfulfilled, but at least Dean had something. The thought made his own misery a little lighter. Still, he couldn't hold back a little barb.

"So, about food, something garlicky for you? To make sure I won't molest you again tonight?"

* * *

"In love, huh? Well, get in line, buddy," Dean joked. He didn't say much else to Sam's gushing over Baby, but he could well relate. It had really never hit him either, till he drove her. 

Finally, it seemed, they had reached some level of comfort. Dean turned on the radio and found a station he could stand, but left the volume low. For a few miles, things seemed almost alright. 

And then it started. Sam, under the guise of asking about dinner, asked Dean if he would choose a garlic-laden dish to keep Sam off of him. Actually he used the word 'molest'. If Dean would have had anything in his mouth right then, he'd have choked or spit it out. 

"...The hell, Sam?" Dean thought fast. If he reacted in anger, Sam would throw the mood right back, sulk, and demand to be taken back to Bobby's. He couldn't have that. "No garlic. I have to smell my own stench, too. I don't really wanna stew in that for days." 

* * *

Apart from a quick outburst, Dean didn't show much reaction to Sam's taunt. Sam shrugged. "Fair enough, no garlic for you. I think I'll have a burrito, though." Since Dean didn't want them to sleep in the same room anyway he couldn't complain if Sam ate beans, right?

"You mentioned movies earlier. Is there anything on that's worth watching?"

* * *

"Oh god. If it has beans in it, make sure you leave the window open in your room tonight," Dean chortled. "Or we'll all be dead by morning." 

It was such a rarity they got to go to the movies, Dean had to admit he really didn't know what might be playing. A lot of times, when they stayed in motels where there was cable TV, he caught previews, but Bobby didn't have cable and he'd been too distracted lately to pay attention to that. "No idea about movies. We could pick a newspaper, or else just drive around to the theaters and look at the marquees. I dunno about you, but I want something with lots of guns and blowing shit up." 

* * *

Sam grinned. "Do you think me, um, _processing,_ burritos would keep monsters out? Say, like salt lines? We could sell the stuff, get rich, and stop hunting."

The grin faded from his face. It had been a joke, of course, but the thought, the wish to give up hunting and lead a normal life had never been so strong before. Until recently, being together with Dean was what had kept Sam going, but now he felt that he had no reason at all to continue living a life that he hated from the bottom of his heart.

"In my last school," Sam said pointedly as he'd been plucked out of school two weeks before when Dad had decided they had to go to Bobby's place, "the guys talked about 'Saving Private Ryan', some war movie, being on. That should have enough guns and blowing up stuff to make you happy." 

Again, Sam's voice held bitterness. Before, it had been he who made Dean happy, and now...

"Still, can we have dinner first?"

* * *

"Yeah, sure it might _work_ ," Dean wrinkled up his face, "but I don't think you'll get rich off it anytime soon." He shook his head. Something in Sam's voice told Dean he was right on the edge of bitching about their latest move. Dean, on the other hand, had rarely been so glad to see a place in his rearview. He needed to jolly Sam along a little more; as usual, the kid had made a friend or two and was still pissed about leaving them behind. "Consider the, er, bottling process. No... Just, no."

Then he turned his face to Sam for a second, grinning. "I'll assume that means you still want Mexican food. Oh, and a war movie works for me. Ought to be plenty of sweet AKs and snipers, maybe some choppers and tanks." Dean was pretty sure war was hell, maybe worse than hunting most days. Their Dad hadn't exactly returned from Viet Nam unscathed. He just liked all the action and adrenaline, losing himself in the screen for a couple of hours without having to think. 

Or, the second most common thing for Dean to do at the movie was make out with his date, in the back row. That didn't exactly take maximum brain power, either. The first time he'd gotten to third base with a girl had been in a theater in Ames, Iowa. Tonight, though, that could be a real problem. He would just have to make sure there was an empty seat between himself and Sam. Sitting right next to his brother, breathing in his scent and feeling his body heat, not to mention what he looked like in those clothes... Just in the front seat of the Impala was close – and bad – enough. For both of their own good, he needed to find another outlet for this god-awful tension, and not just their two right hands. Solo, that was. 

They were nearing the outskirts of Sioux Falls when Dean spoke again. "So, little brother, what do you say that after our dinner-and-a-movie night I try to scratch you up a nice young lady to spend some quality time with, huh?" He wasn't about to bring up the other circumstances of that day, other than: "You said 'yes', remember?" 

* * *

Sam's giggle about the 'bottling process' was snuffed out together with every scrap of good mood he may have had before Dean mentioned getting him laid. It was true, he'd said yes, but it had been under duress, to put it mildly. 

"About the girl," he hesitated. "I said yes, I do remember... Umm... Would you mind...?"

* * *

"Mind what, Sammy? Convincing you that eating anything with beans isn't a good idea? Or maybe you want me to hold your hand till the last minute...?" Dean chortled, but then he glanced over at Sam to see his brother's countenance had gone dark. He sighed. Since their 'break-up', Sam had turned into the definition of angst-ridden teenaged emo-boy. Dean's overall mood wasn't much better. He wanted nothing more than to pull over, take Sam into his arms, hug him, kiss him, comfort him. Instead, he took in a shuddering breath and let it out.

"Sorry, Sam. I won't tease you any more. This is an important day." They'd hit town, and Dean took his foot off the gas. The restaurant he'd been thinking of was on the same street, mid-way through town. Stopping at a red light, he saw a car full of high school-age girls pull up next to the passenger side. They were definitely giving Sam the once-over. "Look..." Dean tapped his arm and gestured. "Those chicks think you're hot." 

* * *

It was too much. "Dean," Sam said, his eyes cast out of the window, "I'll do what I agreed to and go with the girl, but please stop teasing me." _I don't want chicks to think that I'm hot. I want to be hot for you, and only you._

He sighed. "Look... Can't we just get it over with?" He licked his lips nervously. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to eat." _Although it might solve the problem,_ he thought. At least it wasn't likely that hookers had a knack for farting guys, right?

* * *

"But..." Dean _hadn't_ been teasing Sam, when he'd said that the girls in the next car over probably thought Sam was hot. Because Sam _was_ hot, regardless that Dean was going to Hell for thinking so. He wished he could just say it outright, but no – it would only reopen the door he'd closed. 

And anyway, what was Sam's deal, not wanting to hear he was attractive? Every dude he'd ever met wanted female attention, other than gay dudes and they still wanted to be found desirable. But then, Dean supposed that he'd get creeped out if like, some old lady or a really ugly one hit on him. That's how Sam must feel about him, Dean, now. 

The light changed from red to green. The Impala sped ahead of the cars in the other lanes. "Sam," Dean said as gently as he could, "I wasn't... I won't. Want you to have a good birthday, little brother."

More matter-of-fact, and before his voice could break up, Dean continued, "On that subject, since we're back in South Dakota, the person I had in mind is several hundred miles away. But I met a girl here, before, Nicole. She was... different than most. Not much of a talker. Didn't giggle or really even flirt. Intense, though." His lips curved up. 'Intense', alright. Like in bed. Or, on chair, or in shower. Whoever said it was the quiet ones you had to watch out for was right. "...And brainy, like you. Close to my age, maybe a year or two older. Yeah, I'll call her. You sure you don't want to eat first?" He hit another red light and pulled out his phone. 

* * *

_"Want you to have a good birthday, little brother."_

Everything inside Sam was screaming, _Then make love to me!_ But he couldn't say it. Dean knew that it was all that Sam wanted, and he'd told him off over and over again. Sam feared that if he begged for Dean's love even once more, his brother might decide to end not only their relationship, but everything. No more food runs together, no more hunting together, no movies, nothing. The only way for Sam to save what they still had was to go through with Dean's birthday present. He somehow had to fuck this girl in order to show Dean his love, regardless how twisted this was.

"No, I really don't think I could eat," Sam chuckled nervously. "Remember I could never eat when something was up?" He wasn't going to point out that forcing him to eat, like Dad used to, often led to a puke fest in the Impala. Dean wouldn't risk that.

* * *

"Yeah, yeah, I remember that Dad was more than a little slow on the uptake, there, if that's what you mean," Dean replied to Sam's unstated reference. Neither of them had had much fun when John demanded Sam finish his food, and Sam's stomach rebelled, usually in the Impala when they had a 600-mile drive ahead of them. "Now I've lost my appetite, too,"

He really hadn't, but he'd be alright. Dean waited for the next red light, then dialed Nicole's number. It rang four times before she picked up, about the time Dean figured no one was home. A few scenes from the past played out in his head, and he wondered how he could convey his – and Sam's – needs to the girl without making her run screaming for the hills. She wasn't the type to freak out easily, though, which was one reason he'd short-listed her. 

"Hello? Hey, Nicole, it's Dean. Dean Winchester. Remember me?"

* * *

Deep in thought over her semester-final paper for Psych 368, Nicole jumped when the phone rang out of nowhere. A junior at USD, she shared an apartment with two other women, both of whom were out, she assumed either with their boyfriends or at the library. A stiff back from sitting on a hard wooden chair hunched over her desk for too long prevented her from answering till the fourth ring – she'd left her phone next to the microwave. 

The number was unfamiliar, but she recognized the voice. Dean Winchester. So he was back in town, apparently. They'd met at some stupid high school kegger a few years back, and he'd been gone in the morning. At the time, Nicole had chalked it up to life experience – everyone needed at least one one-night stand. 

Only, he seemed to resurface every so often, weeks or months apart. This time, it had been nearly a year. From what little he'd say about his family, she knew he had a little brother, a dead mom, and a father who dragged him and his sibling all over the country, but Dean never would go into the specifics. Some shady business, she assumed. The guy had a fake ID and packed a gun, for christsakes; for all he was drop-dead gorgeous and carried himself with a confidence that pointed to true survival skills, he had scars – seen and unseen. Nicole also suspected he might be younger than he let on. Despite being over six feet tall, his body and sexual tastes... well-developed, some of Dean's ideals, like 'looking out for Sammy' – yeah, that was his younger brother's name – and 'saving people' were borderline naive, likely handed down from this mostly-absent father. When in the area, they stayed with some relative, maybe an uncle, but she'd never caught a name. 

Nicole schooled herself to unflappable steadiness. With that smoky rasp of his, the guy managed to extract sex, money, or lip service from most women within five seconds, so she made him work for it. She'd been easy – and drunk – the first time. Since, though, she'd like to think she was the only female he could talk to, however far that went. It was no coincidence she'd declared her major in psychology. With Dean, talking tended to lead to other things, and no one else could make her scream like that. 

"Hello?" Nicole tried to control her breathing after the dash from bedroom to kitchen, and held the phone away from her mouth for a few seconds. "Of course I remember you, Dean." He wasn't exactly the forgettable type. "So I guess you're back? How long?" 

He didn't know, but he wanted to meet up. Warmth radiated through Nicole's body in anticipation of a night with Dean, his passionate kisses and the silent, supple strokes of his hands and body, on her and in her. Every time, it started gentle and ended rough. When Dean got close, he bit and bruised. Nicole had more than once cried out in both pain and pleasure, and she loved it. But then he mentioned his kid brother was along, which put the brakes on _that_. 

"Why don't you drop by my place, and I'll get ready." Giving him the address, Nicole hung up. No time to get off, first, dammit anyway. The little brother must be fourteen, fifteen, if she guessed Dean's age right. 

Suddenly, she had a weird feeling about what Dean wanted tonight.

* * *

Sam bit his lip nervously when Dean dialed the girl. For a moment, hope rose when she didn't answer; maybe he still had a chance to get out of this deal if the girl wasn't at home, but then the phone was picked up on the other end.

His eyes narrowed, Sam listened to his brother making small talk, flirting with _Nicole_ , until she invited them over to her place. Dean told her that he had his little brother along, but that was all he said, no mentioning of what he was up to. The way they talked suggested that she wasn't a hooker but a nice girl, and for some reason he couldn't explain, Sam disliked her even more for that. Then again, if she really was a nice girl, she might refuse what Dean was about to ask from her.

They kept driving in silence. Eventually, Dean pulled up in front of a house and smiled at Sam. Close to panicking, Sam tried to postpone the inevitable.

"Um, tell me what she likes. What does she look like? How long have you known her? How did you two meet? Does she know what we do for a living?" 

Sam could have gone on indefinitely, but Dean's eye-roll, something between amusement and despair, stopped him.

* * *

The silence was like an approaching hurricane. Dean couldn't tell if it would dissipate before it did monumental damage or unleash a havoc-wreaking disaster. He felt powerless in the face of it, unable to think of one freaking thing to say to influence it either way. He just kept driving, following semi-familiar roads till he found the place. 

Nicole lived in a big old house that had been converted into four or five smaller apartments, Dean could see. He had a passing thought over the soundproofing. Couldn't be any worse than most of the motels and dumpy housing they'd stayed in. Just as he turned Baby's engine off, Sam burst out in a string of questions about Nicole. It was natural that he'd be nervous, curious, maybe even scared. Hopefully not too scared to get it up. Dean smirked over the remembrance of himself at fifteen with a willing partner. Only an icy deluge, a serious knock on the head, or maybe a rabid werewolf would have kept him 'down' for long. Hell, he'd only been sixteen the first time with Nicole, but he'd already worked through any 'jackrabbit on a date' sexual stamina issues by that age. And Sam, he wasn't too worried about. His enthusiasm was lacking and Dean was fully aware of why, but once he got _on_ and slid his dick into that wet warmth, had a live body under him – or on top of him – his body would do the rest. Besides, who could resist boobs? Though Dean was prepared to pay her, Nicole didn't strike him as a slut; Sam should appreciate that after his reaction to Dean's offer of a professional hooker. 

"Oy, twenty questions, Sam...! Slow down. What does she like? Cunnilingus." Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. Sam was clearly not impressed. "Sorry. She's short, dark hair, curvy, nice tits, hazel eyes. I met her at a party, almost three years ago. So she's... 20, almost 21 – birthday's at the end of summer. No, she doesn't know anything about hunting. She likes long conversations, reading, screwdrivers – the drink – and she likes the Impala. If you know what I mean." Dean winked and elbowed Sam lightly in the side, and of course the kid jumped about a foot. "C'mon, Sam, she's just a person, just like you or me, but a lot more normal. She's going to college now, you could talk to her about that." 

Enough chatting – they could do more of that inside the house. Dean pocketed his keys and got out of the car, bending to rearrange his hair in the side mirror. He walked around the front, but Sam was still sitting inside, so Dean grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. "Look, it's not pulling teeth. I'll be there the whole time, I mean, if you want me to be. Now get out here already."

* * *

When Dean suggested that Nicole liked cunnilingus, Sam couldn't suppress a shudder. He wasn't interested in having sex with a girl, let alone _that!_ His brain clearly wasn't functioning as it took him almost a minute to figure out that Dean was winding him up. Or was he?

At least, Dean started replying to Sam's questions. It made Sam feel even more uncomfortable as he hadn't asked out of interest but as a delay tactic. His interest perked up for a moment when Dean mentioned that she liked long conversations, but the Impala reference reminded him too much of their last time together. Not even the fact that she was a college student could distract him from that memory.

Sam tried to come up with more questions, but Dean had obviously had enough and ordered him out of the car. Sam wanted to snort at the comment that it wasn't like pulling teeth because that was exactly what Sam felt like – although he'd never had a tooth pulled before – but then Dean announced that he'd be there the whole time if Sam wanted.

Stepping out of the Impala like a sleepwalker, Sam stared at his brother. Having Dean watch was the last thing he wanted: if there was even the slightest chance of talking the girl into not doing anything and then confirming to Dean that Sam had 'performed well', it would never work with Dean around. On the other hand... He frowned, not liking the direction of his thought. Sam getting off with a girl – _if_ he could manage that at all – was likely to leave Dean all riled up with no relief in sight. Maybe, _maybe_ he'd turn to Sam...

Sam's breathing hitched. "I... I'm not sure," he hedged. "Do I have to decide now?"

* * *

Out in the quiet street, Nicole heard the subtle roar of a powerful car engine. Crossing her room to the window at the front of the house, she pulled the curtain aside enough to confirm what she'd suspected, that Dean had arrived in his black classic car. So he still had it. She smiled slightly, remembering his pride in his wheels and how he'd undressed her in the back seat, running his calloused hands up and down her bare legs before wedging himself between, and in. Neither of them had been virgins, but she'd come away from the experience with several more acts checked off on her list of things tried. 

There'd been a couple other times in the car, once at a motel but she didn't like the idea of doing it in the bed Dean had to share with his little brother because of their dad apparently being too broke to get them a separate room. So they made use of the shower. Dean had needed it so bad she had made him jack off for her first, before they fucked. No use wasting a condom for five seconds. He'd insisted he could make it good, but once he got his hand around his dick, protesting the entire time it was 'fucking embarrassing', he'd blasted an enormous load all over her tits and belly in less than a minute, and that with both of them standing. Later, he'd entered her from behind and taken her pressed against the tiles, fitting himself in, rolling his hips in a tease. The fill of him in her hit just right, just perfect, till the two of them shook and she screamed into his palm while he unleashed into a dozen brutal thrusts and shot warm pulses inside the condom while whispering, "yeah baby" over and over.

Okay, she had to stop that, or she wouldn't be able to walk with so much molten heat throbbing in her core. Dean was... Interesting to be around. His eyes never stopped moving besides when he was drilling her; he was forever tense, but never moved without intent. On some subjects, such as religious and historical esoterica, what he called 'lore', he had a rich background but getting him to explain involved a lot of huffing and eye-rolling. Sports and beer and cars, typical guys stuff, Dean danced around all that which was fine with Nicole. He wouldn't talk about his family, although he expressed incredible pride, and something more she couldn't quite put her finger on, over his brother. 

And speaking of, they finally got around to getting out of the car, and Nicole went to the inside staircase to let them in. The owners of the house built the individual apartments in a way to try to preserve some of the integrity of the overall dwelling, meaning the main stairs were used by the residents of all three upper floors' flats and one had to walk into the main front entrance to see that. She opened the heavy oak-and-glass door to see Dean standing there with his usual cocky self-assuredness in place, and with his brother, she assumed, behind. 

Her eyebrows rose. The kid was young. She had no problem hanging around with teenagers, they were always good character studies. This boy, young man, she supposed, who had a lanky build and maybe half an inch on Dean, looked at her like she was dung and he'd rather be anywhere else. Most siblings bore some similar features, but she found no similarities between these brothers, beyond that each had a slight cleft to their chin. 

Dean grabbed her in a short hug, laughed his way through it, and then said, by way of introduction, "Nicole, hey, this is Sam, my pain in the ass little brother. It's his birthday."

* * *

As usual, Dean ignored his question, which didn't exactly improve Sam's mood. Suddenly filled with rage, he was only stopped from punching Dean and asking him why the fuck he wouldn't answer when the door was opened by a girl. She looked like Dean had described and Sam shrugged. Noting how her eyes lit up when she caught sight of his brother, Sam watched Dean engulf her in a hug. The gesture seemed genuine; if he could just sit back and blend in with the walls, maybe she and Dean would forget all about him?

Then Dean introduced him as his 'pain in the ass little brother', and before Sam could stop himself, he hissed, "That's literally wishful thinking!" Dean looked as if he wanted to kill him with his eyes, but Sam smiled at him sweetly. "What? Neither of us is a pain in the other's ass," he said, putting barely noticeable emphasis on the words and enjoying watching his brother squirm.

"Hi, Nicole, I'm Sam."

* * *

Dean could sense Sam was royally pissed off, like steam would be coming out of his ears if they were cartoon characters. He received evidence in the form of a bored, sneering glance in Nicole's direction while Sam made a crack about how no one's ass was in pain, like that was a bad thing. And in front of a complete stranger – strange to Sam, anyway. Dean had discovered through trial, error, and observation that any 'off' remark could scare a possible hook-up off, if they caught the wrong signal. _That_ was all kinds of wrong, a totally blatant 'hint' about how the two of them, him and Sam, weren't having butt-sex and acting all pissy about it. She'd have to be retarded to not be concerned.

Added to that, what did Sam think he knew about that sort of pain? Dean could testify that having a sore hole, or worse, torn, was painful in ways that the 1-to-10 scale they asked in the ER couldn't begin to cover. The arrogant, unappreciative little shit. But, Dean had sworn to himself Sam would never know about such things, and he loved him too much to ever bring it up, or do it to him. 

Shooting his little brother a glare, Dean did what he always did: resort to a half-joking quip to cover. "Yeah, Sam's a little miffed that I wouldn't give him his birthday spanking. Told him he's too old for that now. He just might like it, and then what would I do?" He winked at Nicole, who, if anything raised her eyebrows more. 

Sam took that moment to introduce himself, as if Dean wasn't right there, trying to smooth over two years of history and a severe case of teenaged angst with a few pithy sentences. At least he was polite, which was more than Dean had expected based on his earlier attitude problem. 

* * *

The brothers threw looks – looks to kill – between them. Nicole was more than a little alarmed at the vehemence. Sam seemed ready to explode and Dean obviously just wanted him to shut up. There were all those 'ass' references. Sam must be gay – her gaydar niggled, although he was young and not really her type, mostly because he was so... defensive. Dean had never made any homophobic comments to her, but maybe it was a different story when it was his only brother. 

Still, she shook Sam's hand and smiled when he introduced himself, and invited them in. Both of them looked around curiously as she led them upstairs and then into the kitchen. "What can I get you to drink? Coke, lemonade, beer?" 

* * *

About to give Dean another snarky reply to the spanking comment, Sam bit it back when the girl – Nicole – asked them what they wanted to drink. None of this was her fault, so he'd do his best to act civilly, but he vowed to himself to never speak with Dean again after this day was over.

"We should really have thought of bringing something," he apologized to Nicole, giving her a tentative smile. She was older than the girls he knew from school – silly things who giggled all the time and always tried to talk to him or even touch him – and he wasn't sure how to talk with a woman of her age. It wasn't exactly helped by the fact that Dean wanted him to have sex with her. He wondered if Nicole knew about his brother's plan for them.

"I'll have a Coke, please."

* * *

"I'll have a beer," Dean requested. "Please, and thanks." When Nicole's back was turned, he looked her backside over appreciatively. Tight black jeans, a dark-turquoise sleeveless pull-over shirt, and chunky black boots appealed to him on several levels. He glanced over at Sam to see if he was checking out the view, too, but the little bugger refused to acknowledge him. Well, if Sam was refusing to talk to Dean, then he'd have to talk to Nicole; he'd already demonstrated he wouldn't be rude to her. 

The long-necked bottle of beer Nicole handed him was something that looked douchey and microbrew-y, but tasted good, and it was half gone before Dean realized he had neglected to toast to anything. He smiled ruefully at the other two and shrugged. 

* * *

It didn't take any imagination to feel Dean's eyes all over her. Nicole tried not to shiver, although her hand shook a little, but she didn't think Dean noticed. Handing him a beer, she retrieved a two-liter of Coke lying on its side on the middle shelf of the fridge and poured a glass of it for Sam. "Ice?" 

He shook his head, shaggy brown strands covering his face. Nicole had never seen anything on Dean but very short hair, and had assumed their dad enforced a military haircut after Dean had let drop that his father had once been in the Marines. Apparently not. The longer style suited Sam, she thought, softening his sharp cheekbones, acute-triangular facial shape, long chin, and slanted eyes. Realizing she was studying him too closely, Nicole blushed a little and handed him the glass, dropping her eyes. Dean, she noticed, had already chugged half his beer, she doubted out of thirst. She got a bottle of her own, twisted the top off, and raised it. "To Sam... Happy Birthday!" 

Meeting the younger Winchester's eyes again, she drank in his honor, glad he knew to follow suit. Dean raised his half-full bottle at the last second, though he said nothing. "Want something stronger in it, Sam? We probably have some rum left from Christmas. I have a fifth of Jack for emergencies... Not opened, though. I'm not much of a drinker. Maybe I shouldn't contribute to the delinquency of a minor..." She cut her eyes at Dean, looking for direction, but he didn't give any non-verbal clues. "Go sit down..." Gesturing toward the alcove they called the living room, a couch, chair, and TV jammed into it, Nicole retreated to her room. "I'll be right there." 

She definitely needed a minute. These two were overpowering. All that testosterone was one thing, but their unspoken animosity towered like a wall. She didn't want to just babble like a ninny, nor have to resort to asking the list of questions they'd been concentrating on in Abnormal Psychology. Her and Dean's lingo had always been more of a slow burn leading to sex. It didn't really matter what was said, just that certain signals were traded, then more. Sam... Jeez, she could get hit with statutory if he was as young as she thought. Dean would never tell, but there was the possibility of an angry father. Twenty years ago, it was unheard of for such a thing to happen if the woman was the older party, but it was a lot more common now. Taking a deep breath, Nicole rummaged in her dresser for the bottle she'd mentioned, made sure she had necessary supplies by the bed just in case, squared her shoulders, and returned to the brothers. 

* * *

Sam's mind was racing as he accepted the drink with a smile and shook his head at the offer of ice. He didn't know what to make of the girl. Oh yes, he was jealous of her, how could he not be when it was obvious that Dean desired her when he should desire Sam? Then there was that Dean could legally be with her but not with Sam. On arriving, Sam had made up his mind to hate her, but now that he'd met her he couldn't; none of this was her fault.

When she offered alcohol, he considered getting drunk – or faking getting drunk, whichever – and come off as disgusting and impotent. Dean would be pissed as hell, but Sam only remembered promising giving _it_ a try, not actually going through with it. And if he embarrassed Dean enough with his behavior, he might even stop Nicole from fancying Dean any longer. On the other hand, Dean would probably allow him no more than a shot of booze, which would make Sam look childish in her eyes. It occurred to him that he'd rather be seen as drunk than immature, but if it served to get him out of the having-sex-with-Dean's-girlfriend deal, he didn't care much about his reputation.

There was, of course, another option, one that sucked in so far that it would include Dean having sex with Nicole, but at least Sam wouldn't have to participate. This plan had the advantage that Sam would neither embarrass himself nor risk a hangover. Furthermore, he'd have Nicole's full support in executing it, even though she'd be clueless as to her role. Sam would give it a shot. If it failed, there were alternatives.

Nicole gestured that he and Dean should repair to the living room, and Sam quickly claimed the only chair for himself so that Dean and Nicole would be forced to share the couch. When she returned and sat next to his brother, Sam looked at her and smiled.

"You know, Dean never told me anything about you before today. How did you two meet?"

* * *

Nicole wasn't especially surprised to see Sam in the one chair and Dean lounging on the couch. She set the JD bottle on top of the TV and sat down next to Dean, not quite touching him, close enough to feel his heat and the waves of nerves that radiated from him. What was someone like him doing here, anyway? He had to be some kind of mythical creature in disguise; no real human should get to look like that. All her life, Nicole had been told she was 'pretty' or 'cute', and the mirror confirmed she was above average, with even features, thick black lashes and a wide mouth. But not jaw-drop-open-and-fall-on-floor stunning. It always took a minute to re-acclimate herself so as not to allow it affect her reason and logic, and she always made herself do it, to put on those blinders. 

How had Sam dealt with that all his life? He could be envious, or oblivious. Dean might have matured into his looks in his teens, making the timeframe much less, who knew? Sam had a sort of 'unfinished' look to him, which was to be expected, given his age. If she were 14, she'd probably be drooling on him, though. As it was she wondered how he'd turn out, as a man: if his eyes and face would widen or remain slanted and pointed, if his whipcord-thin body would fill out more and how much, what he might look like with stubble or a beard and what color it would be, dark or reddish. And moreover, was he so closed off like his brother? The kid seemed intelligent, able to read people.

Before Nicole had a chance to speak, Sam asked how she and Dean had met. Based on his phrasing, he really didn't seem to know. "Never mentioned me, huh? Well, he'll barely talk about your family, to me." She elbowed Dean a little. It was a small stab of disappointment that he'd never told Sam about her at all, not even as a conquest. 

"We met at this end-of-the-school-year party, just before I graduated high school. Quite the event. Lots of last-minute desperation and sort of angsty nostalgia about our childhoods being over. And drinking." She caught Sam's eyes. "High school didn't suck for me as bad as for some, but I was never a cheerleader, jock, or prom queen, either. I dunno, it was just a place I had to be, a three-year sentence to serve before I could get on with the rest of my life, you know?" 

Almost as an afterthought, she continued, "I suppose I noticed the car first, then Dean. Wasn't the first time I'd seen him, but always far between... Well, you know your life better than I do. We'd never met, officially, though. Somehow, we wound up talking, after everyone else was passed out or whatever." She shrugged, not willing to reveal what else they'd done, although the kid could probably guess. "I was a little tipsy. Mighta made me braver than usual. We just hit it off." 

"Not like I'm not sitting right here," Dean cut in. "They had a big bonfire. Nicole and another girl and a dude were playing guitar when I spotted her, sort of glowing orange in the reflection, and a bunch of kids were singing Jesus songs." He grinned. "Between hits off someone's fat spliff."

Nicole laughed, "Camp songs are easy, just chords. I wasn't that high, it was ditchweed. Anyway, 'glowing orange'? What am I, radioactive?" 

Snorting, Dean explained, "The firelight. Orange and yellow, dancing flames. On your- aw, hell, I was trying to give you a compliment." Typical, that she wouldn't let him off the hook. But the warm hand that rested on his knee a second told him she was only messing with him. 

For sure, Nicole didn't want Sam to be more uncomfortable than he already was, or feel left out. So she removed her hand when she realized she'd unconsciously reached for Dean. "So, how old are you today, Sam? Did you get what you wanted for your birthday? I'd ask how you met Dean, but the answer is 'being born'. Tell me more about yourself." The prompt was open-ended, a deliberate move. Nicole was very curious about how Sam would balance common courtesy with the fact they had only just met and she was an 'older woman', with that family secrecy code – or so she guessed – and whatever was brewing between the two brothers. 

* * *

"I turned fifteen today, but never mind me, I'm mostly boring," Sam said, blushing a little. "It was Dean's idea to go out and celebrate. He brought you up, and here we are. One thing he said about you is that you're attending college and that you like reading. Are you studying, like, literature?"

* * *

"Oh come on... I can tell already you're not boring," Nicole asserted. "Literature, no. Psychology. I'm a junior at USD, should finish next year with my bachelor's degree and then I'm going to go for my Master's right away. I'm not much of a writer, not fiction, anyway. We have to write a lot of analytical papers in my field. So what about you? Since you brought it up, do you read a lot, or write stuff?" 

Dean put in, "Sammy's always got his nose in a book, or in front of a computer screen, when he can get to one." Shifting on the couch, he moved to his right, enough so he and Nicole touched from hip to knee. Then he thought, when Sam's eyes narrowed, that it might work better if he laid off any PDA. Otherwise, Sam might decline on the principle of sloppy seconds. And, if his brother developed any basis of being territorial over her, all the better. Let him want to stake a claim, let him think it was all him, that should get things moving. 

"Hey, I gotta use your facilities. Be back in a bit." With that, Dean left the room, having to step over Sam's long legs, in the direction of the bathroom. Having been here before, he knew where it was located. He'd leave them to their own devices for a few minutes. 

* * *

Sam's eyebrows shot up when Dean announced that he needed the bathroom. A few seconds ago, he'd thought his plan was coming along nicely when Dean had scooted closer to Nicole, so why was he leaving now? Or was he...? Sam blushed at the thought that Dean could be beating off in the can.

"Um, err," he stammered, staring at the floor, then looking up. "You must have noticed that Dean... likes you... like, a lot," Sam finished lamely.

* * *

Sam waited to speak again till Dean had closed the door behind him, then, blushing, announced he thought Dean 'liked her'. It was sweet, but Nicole had a somewhat different understanding grounded in life. 

She smiled, and Sam returned it. The boy had deep dimples in each cheek, which made him somehow more endearing. "Yeah, I know he does; I like Dean, too. A lot. You know it's not a forever thing, though, right? In almost three years, we've... met... Like, six or seven times. He never talked about me." 

Nicole took a chance that Sam would recoil and reached over to touch his knee for a second. "I'm sure we'll keep nice memories of each other, but I'm not kidding myself. Right now, school is my focus. Any given time might be the last time I see him. Hell, this could be it." That sounded overly fatalistic, even to her own ears. Instead of rattling on, she should ask for Sam's perspective. "Sorry, I sound 80 instead of 20! So what's it like having him as a brother?"

* * *

If Sam had expected to find Nicole's touch unpleasant, he was surprised: her hand was warm and somehow good on his thigh, but it didn't do anything for him sexually. Only Dean could do that. Still, he recognized that she was being nice to him without having an agenda, just nice and normal. It wasn't something he was used to, and he decided that he might as well enjoy it while it lasted. 

"Dean is great," Sam replied, the smile widening on his face. So what if he had a case of hero-worship, there were good reasons behind it. "Our Mom died when I was little and he's looked after me since. We're on the road a lot," he swallowed, aware that he wasn't supposed to say anything further on that, "and with Dad always working Dean is kind of the only one who's always been there for me."

The more he spoke, the less nervous Sam felt. "Dean doesn't talk much. That he hasn't told me about you doesn't mean he doesn't like you or miss you." He exaggerated rolling his eyes and winked. "Sorry for all the negations in that sentence. I read somewhere that psychologists always try to formulate things in a positive way. What would you make out of that sentence?" Sam grinned.

* * *

"Yeah, well, I'm not official yet," Nicole bandied the words back at Sam. "Four years to go for the Master's, more if I want a Ph.D. Your statement did have a lot of 'hasn't', 'doesn't', but I think you're trying to tell me Dean could have... feelings and always keeps them hidden. See? I knew you're a smart cookie. And I think you're right, to some extent. He doesn't let his guard down, even when he's laughing. No one knows him better than you, I'll bet." Dean only let down his walls during sex, Nicole thought to herself, when he gave and took like a sponge, sucking up and wringing out emotion and sensation. Maybe he was more open with Sam. They'd spent nearly their whole lives together, and also isolated – his comments confirmed it. 

"So your mom died and Dean had a big hand in raising you. That's a lot of responsibility to lay on a little kid. I can't even imagine. What did he do, like, make you dinner, read you bedtime stories, stuff like that? If he ever brings it up, pass along that in my semi-professional opinion, he's done well. My parents are still married – to each other, which is unusual these days. Your dad never remarried, huh? We have something in common: I have a brother, too, but he's eight years older and we've never been close. The age difference was too much for us to be either playmates or rebellious teenagers together." 

Something else struck her. How would this kid ever get ahead in life? He was too intelligent to just fall into working fast food or construction. Dean maybe didn't have the obvious book-smart lingo, which was possibly deliberate, but he wasn't dumb. "So... on the road all the time. How do you go to school? Does your dad home-school you?" 

* * *

Dean remained in the bathroom a lot longer than normal, listening to Sam and Nicole chat. That's what Sam needed, someone to talk to him normal, like anyone else. No monsters, no hauntings, no demons, no reciting obscure Latin incantations and exorcisms. Let him talk about his life, his feelings, even the stuff he wasn't supposed to, as long as he didn't tell her about _them_. If Nicole found out Dean had been molesting his little brother in the eyes of the law since the age of 13, at the very least she'd tell him off and throw him out of her house. 

Even now, Dean missed it, missed Sam, missed their love so goddamn much. Flashbacks still hit him out of nowhere, leaving him hard or weepy or worse: both. Like now. He hated, hated having to turn Sam away and school himself to refuse them both what they wanted more than anything. If the rest of the world would just go away or ignore them... But it wouldn't. They'd become more pariahs than the hunters and drifters already were. In a few years... No, Dean put that thought from his mind as wishful thinking. In a few years, Sam would go to college, just like Nicole was going to make him want to do more than ever, and it would be a moot point.

* * *

What had begun as small talk turned to a new, exciting direction. Sam had never had an opportunity to talk about Dean before, and Nicole knew his brother in an intimate way. Of course, the rejection still stung, and it would hurt as long as he lived, but hearing her perspective on Dean was soothing the pain.

"Dean never had much of a life on his own," Sam cringed. Neither had he, what with their dad and the hunter training, but at least he didn't have a little – pain in the ass, Dean had said – brother to look after. He swallowed. "Well, at least he has you whenever we're in Sioux Falls."

"Dad never remarried," Sam resumed. "He's still going crazy over Mom's death. Maybe I should count myself lucky that I never met her... Dean never speaks about her either. Once I tried to ask him and he almost hit me when he told me to shut up and never mention her again. He must miss her so much..." 

Suddenly, he remembered that Dean might be hearing this and he hurried to change the topic. "What Dean did for me, well, the better question would be was there ever anything he did _not_ do for me." He tensed for a moment when the words cruelly reminded him of what Dean would never do for him, then continued. "He tucked me in, read me bedtime stories, kept me safe from monsters." Nicole didn't have to know that the latter was literal. "He fed me, took me to school, checked my homework, got me books when we were on the road." Stealing them from libraries most likely; Sam had never asked. "He also taught me football and, um, about, sex..." Sam blushed. Time to stop running his mouth.

"Yeah, we were on the road a lot, but we'd stay at a place for weeks or months and then Dean and I would go to school. Dean always hated school, but I like it." Sam's voice turned wistful. "I wish I could finish high school and study one day, like you do."

* * *

"That can't be easy on you, that they won't talk about your mom. I doubt Dean would tell me, all I knew was that she'd died, but I can try." And probably hit a nerve. What did that mean, that their dad was still 'going crazy'? Still grieving, after a dozen or more years? No wonder Dean put the kabosh on it. In that moment, Nicole realized she'd projected into the future, either she and Sam talking again, or herself finding some way to influence Dean to answer Sam's questions. Where the father fit into this was something of a mystery before, but one thing she already knew: she didn't like the man. 

Sam mentioning that Dean 'taught' him about sex put a wide grin on Nicole's face. She didn't know much about Dean's general likes or dislikes yet, but of course that subject always snagged her interest. "I'll bet Dean brags about it, huh? His experience. I dunno, maybe it's better to hear from a sibling than to have to endure 'the talk' from your parents. As long as he has his facts straight, teaches you above the difference between sex and love, and about safety. So Sam, how far have you gone?" But she put her hands up, crossed her legs, and amended, "No, no, you don't have to answer that. It's none of my business." 

"You mustn't be in Sioux Falls very often," she mused, changing the subject. "Once, twice a year. Wow, all those schools. You must get good grades, if you like school in spite of it. That's good. Keep it up, maybe you can get a scholarship. If you want to go to college, that could be your ticket. Try to join some extra-curriculars, if you can. Sports, music, hell, chess club. Straight A's will only get you so far." Perhaps school, or schoolwork, provided a refuge for Sam, a point of predictability in an otherwise unstable life. She sighed over the thought of two young boys, their home more or less a classic car. "What are your best subjects, what do you like the best? Any idea of what you want to be?" 

* * *

More than once, Dean almost interrupted them, but Nicole seemed to know where to draw the line. Dean didn't get why anyone not family would be that interested in him, all about him, and not just how well he aimed a pistol or kept his head in a fight. It was kind of nice as well as a little uncomfortable. The strangest thing of all is that, beyond a few smart-ass comments involving cars and sex and various pop culture references, Dean couldn't have said what he liked or didn't, or what he wanted. Sam was so far beyond him in that regard.

After a while, he slipped soundlessly out of the bathroom and down the hall to Nicole's bedroom. Sam's back was to him, and Nicole didn't acknowledge his move, caught up in the conversation or simply letting him do his thing without censure. Definitely a girl's room. A woman's, rather. Not pink and flowery, but there were some candles, hair stuff, just the way her dresser was arranged that said female. That was all okay, though. Again, normal. He wouldn't of course, but he had a strange desire to root through the closets and kitchen cabinets just to see what people kept in their houses, and how they arranged it. All he'd known were strange beds and being too cold or too hot half the time, eating mac'n'cheese, pizza, or gas station food, living in the car and out of one duffel bag between a thousand small towns. He wasn't complaining – that was their life, and he was used to it. This was how the other half lived. Dean wasn't certain he could do it. Not for long. 

Eventually Dean found himself curled up on his side, one arm cradling his head. His eyes drifted shut, on the soft blue covers that contained Nicole's unique scent.

* * *

"I miss my Mom, too, you know," Sam admitted softly. It was the first time that he could – was allowed – to talk about her. "And I've never even met her. Dean..." Sam turned his head but his brother was nowhere to be seen. "I feel that, as much as he tries to hide or deny it, Dean's emotions run extremely deep. That's why it's so painful for him to speak about her. The one time I tried, he really scared me with his vehemence to never mention her again."

They both were silent after that until Sam spoke up again. "Well, sex, of course Dean brags about it," he winked. "He's a mature teenager, right?" He almost giggled, feeling light and relaxed, but then he turned serious again. "About love, I dunno. Most girls he's ever told me about were one-night-stands. As far as I can tell, you're the only one he's seen more than once. And since he seems to return to you whenever we're here, don't you think that means something?"

Sam sighed. "A few months here and there, I find it hard to make friends. As soon as I get to know someone, we're off again. Dean never complains about it, but I'm sure it costs him, too. How can he even fall in love when he already knows he'll be gone in a few weeks? Trust me, you're probably the only girl he really cares about."

He took a deep breath while his heart screamed at him that Dean shouldn't care about a girl but about _him._ "As for myself, Dean would tan my ass if I considered having sex without condoms," he grimaced. "He's told me about protection over and over, but it isn't an issue for me because I'll never have sex with a person I don't love," Sam said, passion in his voice. He clenched his hands, hoping her psychologist's sense wouldn't pick up on it. 

"As for my favorite subjects, I like natural sciences best, but I'm also interested in everything else. Dean once said I'd eat books if they were digestible." He grinned at her.

"So what were your favorite subjects? And how did you come to choose psychology for your degree?"

* * *

Sam started to speak about his mother again, and Nicole nodded her understanding that he'd miss her, though he couldn't remember her. Dean was enough older than Sam that unless he'd blocked it, his early childhood memories would have included his mother. It didn't take long for Sam to return the subject to his brother again, a presence he was rarely without, it seemed. "'Mature teenager', huh? Isn't that an oxymoron?" she couldn't resist asking. Of course Dean had been with other girls; it still stung a little to hear Sam mention it as if were simply a fact, but then, it was. 

It still warmed her heart, when Sam pressed the point again that Dean must care about her, to have looked her up more than once. She'd carefully guarded against becoming attached, sensing it would drive him away. Lowering her voice, Nicole looked Sam in the eyes, telling herself this was a very young and idealistic teen's interpretation, nothing more. "I don't... Sam, I don't know if Dean could fall in love. Not with me. He needs something else, something more. But thank you for telling me that he... has feelings for me, that means a lot. Thank you," she repeated, and impulsively slid off the couch, sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair Sam was in, and hugged him. It was kind of awkward, leaning across and squashing his face into her chest, and he felt so different from Dean's solid mass. 

It was quick, though; Nicole backed off immediately and resumed the conversation. "I've never met a guy who would admit to wanting to be in love before having sex. That's admirable." Sam had tensed up, revealing that much personal information, as if he were expecting her to make fun of him. It hadn't been the way she'd played it, and that had been _her_ choice. Mostly because, "The people I've known who decided to wait only did it for religious reasons, or because they were scared. Glad you're prepared for the eventuality – you might not have appreciated a banana-and-condom safe sex lesson from me. Did they ever make you do that in health class?" She laughed, recalling her own attempt. "One of the most embarrassing days of my life. I was fourteen, a freshman, so red in the face it was a wonder I didn't spontaneously combust. First time, I ripped it taking it out of the packet. The text try, it shot out of my fingers like a rubber band, pun intended, right past the teacher's head. Right, Mr. Smith, usually the gym teacher, but they made him teach Health. He used to wear these god-awful polyester grape-smuggler shorts..." About to crack up, Nicole went back to the story. "Anyway, then I got the condom all twisted and stuck to itself, and it wouldn't unroll. By then, all the other kids were watching me, and one of the jocks started chanting, 'Sticky Nicki, Sticky Nicki!' Pretty soon, the whole class was." She huffed another laugh. "Ah, high school."

"After that, I wanted to know what the hell went on in people's heads, and how to help the ones that had bad things happen to them. I was fairly naive about what sorts of things really traumatized folks had been through. But you learn. Some people need to vent anger. Some are just so sad. Or they need direction. But mostly just someone to talk to. Well, some need meds too, but that's out of my scope. There's all kinds of abnormal psychology; a person could study it a lifetime and never see the same thing twice. Since you asked, my favorite classes right now flip-flop between Abnormal Psychology, Sexuality, and Disaster Response. Beyond psyche, I liked Biology, Astronomy and, don't laugh, Film Studies." 

"But I'm probably talking too much. So you might want to be a scientist of some type? That would be cool. The laboratory type, or the field-work type? Or you could teach." The kid might change his mind umpteen times, but it was good getting him to think about his future. 

* * *

"I think Dean's scared of getting close to anyone," Sam said quietly with his eyes cast down. "Losing Mom when he was four, maybe he's protecting himself from further loss by not letting himself become attached."

When Nicole reached out and hugged him, his first instinct was to tense up, and he had to force himself to relax. Having his face against her chest, her... boobs, didn't feel right. He wanted it to be Dean's chest, warm and firm muscle instead of... soft and... spongy? Before he could come up with a suitable word, Nicole pulled back, leaving Sam confused. He should be aroused, but all he felt was curiosity for a body that felt so different from his own and that of his brother.

If she'd noticed his confusion, she didn't show it, but continued to talk easily, turning toward the topic of sex. To his surprise, he wasn't even embarrassed by her colorful description of fitting a condom to a banana, but he blushed when he replied, "No, Dean never suggested a banana for practice. He explained how it, um, worked, and then gave me a, erm, magazine, and said I should try it in the bathroom..."

Sam swallowed and rambled on, stammering, "Believe me, you don't want to know what went on in my head then. The pictures were just... gross. I was eleven and I guess I was a late bloomer... I know how to put on one of those things by now, but... Sorry, that's really not what you want to hear..."

After taking a deep breath, he changed topic. "I dunno, field work sounds good to me, but so does lab work. Anyway, it's not gonna happen. We've no money, and I'm already a couple years late with my education. If I ever get my High School diploma, I'll be too old to qualify for grants, but it's nice to dream about a future as a scientist."

Sam laughed a little forced. "Hey, if I end up with some complex later over not studying, you can treat me for it, right?"

* * *

Nicole nodded again that she agreed Dean's self-preservation instinct ran deep, but couldn't stop a snort escaping over Sam's tale of woe of his first try with a condom. "Sorry, not laughing at you. Dean must have been one hell of an early bloomer, or should I say early riser, if he thought you'd be ready for that at 11." Unsure of whether Sam meant the pictures in the magazine were gross or what consequently went on in Sam's head felt gross to him, she added, "If you hadn't, er, developed yet, porn would have seemed pretty disgusting, yeah. But if you liked it, there's nothing wrong with that." She left it at that, not wanting to prod for intimate details he might not want to share. 

Sam seemed discouraged by falling behind in school. The kid was bright, and they'd already established him as a voracious reader. Nicole assumed that it had to do with him not being able to take essential tests at the right time, or different curriculums in different school systems forcing him to repeat classes, and asked if there was any merit in that theory. "Not sure that age alone has anything to do with scholarships, other than a few that might specify an age limit. Almost a third of the people in my classes are what you'd call older than average, and not just by a couple of years – they're in their thirties and forties. I think it depends on grades, and then on how well you present yourself in the essay – they always want one of those." If he didn't, Sam would need to know this. "You've had an unusual life, just with all the moving. If you can spin that, show that you've overcome odds, there's a good chance someone out there will want to help. And then, when you're through school and trained up, you can help someone else in turn." 

That she should counsel him? "Sure, you can be my patient. Why not? I already have a head start on your family history." Nicole gave him her full name. "It'll be a while till I'm ready for that, and who knows, I might move or get married, but the school should know how to find me. They always keep up with their alumni, so they can pester them for donations," she winked. Somehow, she didn't think this would ever come to pass. And, depending on how things played out, being too close to either brother would place her out of bounds, professionally. This, too, she kept to herself. 

Something that she'd been wanting to suggest worked its way forward, and Nicole leaned forward in her seat. "From what Dean's said, when you're in Sioux Falls, there's someone you always stay with... An uncle or something? Would whoever that is let you live there full-time, until you finish high school? I mean, if you want to. It would be a lot easier if you could remain at just one school."

* * *

"You mean they give scholarships to older students? Really? Nicole, you've just given me the best birthday present I could think of!" Other than Dean making love to him, that was, but Nicole would never know about that.

Earlier, she had hugged him when he'd told her that Dean liked her, something that made her happy. Now, Sam understood, and since she was still perching on the arm of his chair, he gave her a big smile and pulled her into his arms. 

It was a totally different feeling from hugging Dean, but it still felt good, so Sam held on to her while he spoke again.

"You may take a while to be ready to treat patients, but trust me, I'll need some time, too, in order to develop a nice psychosis," Sam laughed.

* * *

"Oh, lord, I hope that's a joke!" Nicole chuckled. "Paranoid, schitzo, obsessive-compulsive – you only get to pick one." Sam taking the initiative to hug her took her by surprise, but it felt nice, even more as he held on to her, his body less substantial, thinner than Dean's but still strong and, well, male. When Sam made no move to push her away or escape, Nicole slowly relaxed against him, sliding into his lap. He was so warm, like he ran naturally hotter than average. His heartbeat thumped against her side. 

If this were any other pair of brothers, what she was doing would be totally wrong, the physical part. Not talking to Sam, not hugging Sam, but sitting on his lap, and, damned if she wasn't starting to ache just a little, for more. Dean had been away nearly a year, and she'd been too busy to think about finding a boyfriend. But it was a long time, too long, to go without touching someone else, or being touched. Being filled. Being loved, real or not, because Dean always made it seem real, for a little while. 

Where the hell was Dean anyway, to show up dragging his little brother along on his birthday, then disappear...? This was supposed to be the kid's initiation. Right. Why had it taken her this long to figure it out? Movement in the darkened hallway snagged her attention; she knew the silhouette and the flash of glittering eyes. Flicking her own in Dean's direction once, Nicole lowered her lids, and curled against Sam's chest. She kissed the hollow of his throat, then the pulse point nearby. "Mmm..." 

* * *

Damn, he'd slept like the dead on Nicole's blue comforter. Yawning, Dean got his bearings and checked his watch. Almost ten already. He was starving, and it was nearly dark out, the western sky fading to purple with a few orange streaks. In the other room, Sam and Nicole were still talking in low voices. Dean couldn't make out the words. Sam laughed; he sounded happy. For the first time in weeks, Dean had heard his brother's voice express excitement like his old self. 

Sneaking out of Nicole's bedroom and down the hall, he watched his not-girlfriend, female friend-with-benefits, whatever, being pulled into a hug by his younger brother, who was still in the same chair with his back to Dean, mostly hidden. It was crazy: this was his idea, he'd done everything in his power to get Sam here, and now... Dean didn't want anyone else touching Sam, not even the woman he'd silently enlisted. He learned right then that his jealousy was fierce. But he had no right, so he didn't move. It took every ounce of control Dean possessed to not march in there and claim Sam, mark him, take him as his own right then and there. All he could have was the next best thing – he could watch another give Sam what he could not. 

From the look she shot at him, Nicole knew exactly what he'd engineered. Ducking her face so it was hidden from him, Dean recognized the sound of kissing, maybe not mouth-on-mouth but something with lips on skin was happening, and then Sam's harsh gasp rang out. 

* * *

"If you'd ask Dean, he'd tell you that I'm OCD already," Sam replied dryly. Of course, paranoia was a key requisite for any member of the Winchester family, but he couldn't elaborate on that without going into details about the family business...

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden surge of heat spreading from his lower belly. The cause was located on his throat, and despite the hot sensation it hit him like a bucket of ice water.

"Hhhhh-??!!!" Sam's whole body went rigid in shock when Nicole kissed him, urging him to pull her even closer, letting himself drown in her warmth, and at the same time he wished that the ground would split and swallow him up.

"Unnhh..." Sam squirmed, hoping Nicole wouldn't notice that he'd immediately gone rock hard. His instincts told him that she _knew_ although she had no direct point of contact with his groin. Could Dean have told her somehow about his plan without Sam observing? And just where was his brother? 

* * *

That she didn't immediately get shoved onto the floor or told off provided encouragement. Sam didn't move, only made a shocked questioning noise in his throat. "It's okay," Nicole murmured, raising her arms to wrap one around the side of his torso, which heaved with rapid breathing, and the other around his neck. She kissed the smooth skin on the side of his long neck, flicking out her tongue to taste. Salty, smoky almost. When she pulled back, she noticed his eyes wide and dilated to almost all pupil, a sign he was receptive. A nudge of her thigh along his up to the apex told its own story. 

"I'll take that was a compliment," Nicole stated calmly, winding the fingers of one hand into Sam's hair. "Tell me what you like, Sam." She leaned in again, wondering if it was too much to kiss his lips. They looked so soft. Dean loved that. One brief kiss was enough to indicate that Sam's tastes were different, in that he didn't immediately deepen it, use his tongue, or get handsy. "You can touch me if you want." She ran a hand down his arm, feeling firm muscle under his sleeve. They would go at Sam's pace, do this however Sam wanted. 

* * *

It wasn't easy to see someone else kiss Sam, lick at his neck, yet Dean couldn't look away and more-over, his dick wouldn't be told 'no' about hardening to nearly full capacity as Sam's little noises filtered into his ears. He silently adjusted his crotch before he hurt himself but otherwise remained hidden. One of them would call him out eventually, or they'd stumble past him. Palming himself a little, Dean tried to keep his breathing from getting too loud or his eyes from tearing, and watched. 

* * *

"B-b-but..." Sam stammered, torn between desire for Nicole and the feeling that this was just wrong on so many levels. "We can't, Nicole, we can't! You're Dean's girl, and I..." He swallowed down what he was about to say, that he wanted Dean, his brother, her lover. 

"We can't..."

* * *

"Think, Sam... It's your birthday, Dean brought you here, to meet me, for a reason, didn't he?" It kind of pissed Nicole off, Dean's presumption. As if she were his to give. Sam had a better sense of right and wrong than either of his elders, and it burned. Torn between shifting around to straddle Sam and getting the hell out of there, Nicole froze. She wasn't quite ready to give up the feel of his warm body.

* * *

Thanks to Sam and his cold feet, this was already stalling out. A hot girl in his lap and he was worried she was 'Dean's'? Aware his erection wouldn't be lost on either of them, Dean steeled himself and strolled out to the little alcove they called the living room. "Sam, you promised," was all he said. Dropping onto the couch, he slouched and looked at his disheveled, panicky brother over with narrowed eyes. Nicole was halfways wrapped around him already, her wandering hands stilled, lips swollen, meaning she was probably soaked downstairs. His dick blurted a little fluid. "I don't own her. It's casual. You can slip her that boner you're trying to hide and I don't think she'll say no." 

His eyes found Nicole's, seeing something like disgust mixed with lust and nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Sorry. But please... Take care of Sam for me? He... He's ready for this, he needs a woman." 

The statement was half-true. It was the best he could do. And... If Sam could do this, it would be something for him to hold on to, that there were other people, so many others he could have.

* * *

Hearing his brother's words, Sam exploded. "You're so shallow, Dean. I'm ashamed of you. How can you think so lowly of Nicole!" He tightened his arms around her in an instinctive attempt to protect her from Dean.

It was all he could do to keep himself from blurting out that it wasn't a 'woman' he needed; it was Dean. However, in this moment, he felt utterly repulsed by his brother. Yes, he'd promised, and he needed to explain that to her, how the promise had been given under duress, but how was he supposed to explain this without giving up their secret? 

Sam knew he'd find a way, but not while was Dean with them. A look revealed that Dean was actually turned on, and Sam blushed furiously. Had Dean been watching them? Was he getting off at Sam's and Nicole's expense?

A pathetic teenager with Nicole on his lap, Sam knew he didn't look impressive, but the rage in his voice would hopefully serve to get his message across.

"You," he hissed at his brother, "can get the fuck out of here. She's too good for you, you fucking bastard."

* * *

The venom in Sam's voice sliced like a straight-edged razor, worse than when they'd fought before. Sam not only hated what Dean did, but what he was. That was never the goal. He loved his brother, didn't want his refusal to have sex with him turn to hate. 

In that moment, Dean realized he should have seen this coming. Since he was old enough to speak at all, Sam always expressed his feelings: the more intense, the more likely they were to be hurled in words. By comparison, Dean mostly buried them to stay on Dad's good side. Someone had to. Both of these people looking askance on him had seen parts of him, not just physically, that he should never have exposed, he knew that now. So maybe his words were crude. Whatever. Sam was only half right. He – Dean – had been horny as hell for both of them, but watching them together had cut almost as deep as his brother's diatribe. It was too much, and Dean snapped. 

On his feet, he looked down at the pair opposite, sneering. "Oh really? Well, fuck you, too. Little Sammy is so morally superior he gets to spit on the gift he's been given, and the giver. Oh, I've no doubt she's more than I deserve," he gestured at Nicole, who stared up at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, "but what about you, then, since you're so interested in protecting her virtue? Or is it your own, which is pretty damned dubious, don't you think? I'm looking out for you, same as I've done my whole fucking life, making sure you know you can... that you have, have... options! Or would you actually prefer a hooker?!" 

Before he started punching drywall or worse, Dean spun on his heel and slammed his way out of the apartment. Seconds later he was on the street, running toward his Baby. The familiar black-and-chrome lines, the promise of escape, of home, of unconditional love. Dean picked up his pace and reached for the door handle. 

* * *

"Yeah, I'd choose a hooker," Sam yelled, "and you know why? Because a hooker has a choice in what she's doing. Bad enough that I don't have that choice, but who do you think you are to expect your girlfriend to sleep with me? Without even ask her about it first?"

Only then did he realize that Dean had already left. "I'm so sorry," he blurted out to Nicole. "Please let me explain. It... He... It wasn't..." Sam was breathing so fast that he was feeling dizzy. "Shit – sorry! I mean..." His vision grayed at the fringes. "Lemme explain... Dean, he's... best brother..." Sam could only gasp by now "And I... let him down... gay..."

* * *

Screaming after his brother, who was long gone if the V8 roar and screeching tires was any indication, Sam progressed to a full blown panic attack, if Nicole was reading it right. Not asthma – he couldn't get air because he was hyperventilating. She scuttled off him and knelt in front of the chair, one hand curled around his arm as a point of contact. "Sam...! Hey! Sam, look at me." Nicole V'ed her fingers and pointed at her eyes in the 'watching you' sign. Eyes wild, Sam glanced from corner to corner and from her face to anywhere else in the room like a trapped animal, probably seeing nothing. At last he looked into her eyes, as if begging for help. "Right here. Good. Breathe out." 

She paused when he struggled on a few more words, finally unable to go on. "It's okay, don't talk, for now just take deep, slow breaths... In through the nose... Out through the mouth..." Nicole demonstrated. "Keep going. Breathe so your belly expands, not your chest." 

When he tried to speak again, Nicole shook her head, "In a little bit, Sam, okay? He's gone for now, we have plenty of time. In... Out..." 

Keeping her eyes locked on Sam's, she could see that he was suffering, and it had went way beyond breathing difficulties. His last choked-out word was 'gay', and he'd still been defending his brother while at the same time condemning his actions. Poor kid – he must be confused as hell. Had he come out to Dean, only to have his hero drag him to the first available female to 'fix' him? That was nothing but failure waiting to happen, if her interpretation was correct. Could he mean Dean was gay, and trying to replace himself in her life with his next of kin? That was messed up Old Testament bullshit, but she didn't think so for more than a passing second. One thing she knew was that one brother had burned his bridges tonight. 

* * *

With Nicole's help, Sam finally got his breathing under control. As soon as his senses returned, he wished that the ground would open up and swallow him. He couldn't even remember what exactly he'd yelled when he'd lashed out at his brother in his pain, but he feared he'd given away their secret – several of their secrets, like that he was in love with Dean, had sex with Dean, that they were hunters...

He couldn't meet her eyes. Not only had he burned every single bridge behind himself, but he'd also destroyed whatever Dean and Nicole had shared. That there was someone his brother had a relationship with that had survived for years was amazing, and now Sam had ruined what was possibly the only link to a 'normal' person Dean had ever had.

Oh yes, what Dean had done to Sam was unfair, but that didn't give Sam the right to do what he'd done. All Sam wanted now was to run, but at the very least he owed Nicole an apology and an explanation. The former would be possible, not easy because Sam was hurting for her as well as for Dean, but he really felt contrite. The latter, however, was a different story. Not only wasn't he sure how much he'd actually revealed, but how could he explain what must never be shared with anyone outside their line of business? 

Sam felt like a coward, but the only idea he could think of was leaving and never returning home, then letting Dean explain what was wrong with Sam. Nicole studied psychology. She'd understand how Sam had forced Dean into this, and she'd convince Dean to make up with her.

"Nicole, I'm so, so sorry... Please, it's all my fault, not Dean's... I'll leave and you should call him, he'll explain..."

* * *

Nicole shook her head. "I'm not calling him. And you don't have anything to apologize for, Sam. I get what he's done, and that's not your fault – no one can control another person's thoughts or actions, only their own. You don't have to leave, but I won't keep you here again your will. It's your choice." 

The kid was still really distressed. Nicole was convinced that there was something more going on than just this hook-up gone wrong, something years-deep between the brothers. "I'd rather hear from you, about what's going on here. We've established Dean won't talk about his feelings. But why do you think he tried to... why he wanted you to sleep with me?" 

* * *

Sam could read in Nicole's eyes that she cared, that she was even worried about him. No, he couldn't just leave her. Here was a chance to fix what he'd done, and he owed it to Nicole – and Dean! – to reassure her that Dean had only been trying to help.

"He... maybe the worst thing is that he wanted me to sleep with, not you, just a girl, any girl... He wanted to make it good for me..." Sam blurted out, but faltered. His thoughts were a blur, and he didn't know how to stop the swirling in his head. Reaching for his drink, he took a sip, which seemed to help somewhat.

"I'll try to start at the beginning," Sam said, feeling sheepish, but relieved at the same time. Nicole wouldn't be able to return Dean's love for him, but she wanted to listen, and maybe she could help him. Them.

"I'm in love with someone," he began. "A man. And he loved me back until recently. We had sex, um, kind of," Sam looked down at his lap where his hands were clenched tightly, "not all the way, you know?" He hoped she wouldn't ask for details. "And then, I wanted more, but he refused me. Said he didn't want to hurt me, and what if I changed my mind later, about wanting to be with a man. That society would never accept our love. That I'd be shunned if I came out." As if being a hunter wasn't bad enough already.

"I... told Dean about that, and he suggested I should have sex with a girl. I refused, but he said I should at least give it a chance. So I finally agreed. He made me promise. That was two weeks ago, and then, the next morning, we left where we were living and came here. I dunno why, but Dean must have convinced our father that we shouldn't stay there any longer, and I've always liked it here, so..."

It all came back to him. Their last time together, christening the Impala. Then the fight and the morning after. His hangover and Dean being roughed up, Dad and Dean both lying to him about Dean's condition. Not being allowed to ride with Dean. Dad and Dean leaving him with Bobby, and then finally, being left alone with Dean, crawling into his brother's bed only to be kicked out again...

Sam burst into tears. "I miss him so much..."

* * *

The story started to spin out and Nicole quickly decided that despite his age and gender, this wasn't unlike listening to her friends and schoolmates talk about their crushes and loves and hook-ups, getting advice and comfort from just sharing and counseling one another. Her training might put her at an advantage – or not – because a lot of stress got placed on the magical number of 18, which Sam wasn't yet. Although tall, he looked his age, but his thought process and the way he worded things spoke of a lot of real-life experience. That much was true. Her impression that Sam hadn't done much of anything sexual had been dead wrong. 

And then, the heartache. He'd spoken of losing his mother, not having a home, and now, recently having been dumped by his... lover. Though Sam hadn't spelled it out that way, she thought he wouldn't be as devastated had he been the one to cut it off, or if it had happened due only to moving – after all, there was still the phone and email.

In love? Nicole, at 20, wasn't even sure what that really meant, but Sam insisted that he was. In love. With a man. 'A man', insinuating this person was older than Sam by at least a few years. Now it was over, and Sam was here, crying his heart out to a stranger. But maybe that was easier than to let down his guard in the presence of family. Nicole pulled him into her arms again, down off the chair onto the floor and let him sob against her till her shoulder was wet and his voice went hoarse. 

"I'm sorry... that you got hurt," she whispered finally. "And that you lost someone you care about." That brought a fresh round of crying that was so painful she found herself in tears, too. Stroking his hair and back, Nicole rocked slowly, gently back and forth. "Let it out... It's okay to be sad." 

A long time later, when Sam's outburst reduced to occasional sniffles, Nicole finally remarked, "Maybe it's just me, but something seems fishy about the timing of your move. 'Shunned' is a very strong word. Do you agree with that? So I guess your, er, boyfriend's not out?" From what she'd seen, gays didn't have it easy in society, particularly the men. They got hassled and mocked. But compared to even ten years previous, things had come a long way, even in as conservative a state as South Dakota. Giving Sam a few final pats, she shifted to let him know he was free to move if he wanted to. 

* * *

As far as he could remember, Sam had never been held by a woman. It had always been Dean who'd taken care of him when he'd been little. Then, two years ago, Dean had resumed holding him, but not for the type of comfort Nicole offered. Instinctively, he moved closer to her and soaked up her warmth, feeling protected and, strangely enough, loved. 

She smelled different than Dean – of course – and he missed the mix of his brother's sweat and aftershave, often accompanied by a hint of the coppery tang of blood. On the other hand, there was something sweet in her scent that felt like a balm on his wounded soul. Her gentle, soothing hand made him think that must be how a mother's embrace would feel, which made him cry even harder. In contrast to Dean, who always pulled the plug when Sam got emotional, she encouraged him to let it out, told him that it was okay to be sad.

It took a long time until Sam had cried himself out, and he felt weak and empty when the tears finally dried. Nicole shifted her position and he should probably move away from her, but he didn't want to lose the solace he felt from the physical contact. 

"No, he isn't out," he whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. "And neither of us can ever be out. Dad would kill us."

Sam tensed briefly when he realized what he'd just said, but he forced himself to relax. He could always claim that his father would kill him and any boy Sam might have a relationship with; it didn't necessarily mean that Dean was his lover. Everything inside him was screaming at him to tell her the whole story, but he couldn't. Nicole was probably the closest thing to a girlfriend his brother had ever had. Sam had most likely destroyed that, but if there was even the slightest chance of reuniting them, it would be ruined the moment she fond out about him and Dean.

His head was hurting, and he rested it on her shoulder with a sigh. "I should probably go..."

* * *

Leave now? After such an emotional outpouring, Sam wouldn't be thinking too clearly. Nicole couldn't just let him wander the streets like that. "Sam... You shouldn't be alone now, is what I think. Dean is god knows where doing god knows what – if you really want to go, I'll drive you back to your uncle's or where ever it is you're staying. But why don't you stay here for a while, talk some more? I promise, you can tell me anything. No judgment." 

Not like Sam's father, apparently. Sam was positive his father would 'kill them', Sam and his lover, if he knew the truth. Nicole caught that the phrase was not its overdramatized, everyday version for Sam, but possibly literal. Was the man super religious or just homophobic? Maybe Sam's fear was making it worse than it was. "Come on, why don't we sit on the couch? It's a lot more comfortable than the floor."

* * *

Dean was doing ninety down some country road, just trying to wear off nervous energy and rage, when the 5-point buck jumped up out of nowhere. Plenty of examples in Bobby's scrap yard demonstrated what could happen when deer met car at high speeds. Dad would kill him for wrecking the Impala just weeks after being given her. With no time to think, just react, Dean slammed on the brakes and swerved. Baby met the ditch, her front dipped, thudded, shivered, bounced. Dean was pitched forward and his head hit the steering wheel hard, and everything went black. 

He awoke in a corn field sometime later. Everything was quiet, the countryside black with only starlight and Baby's headlights. Dean couldn't get his bearings, or remember how he'd come to be here. His head hurt like hell: not just a headache, but enough pain he thought he was going to be sick. With nothing in his stomach, how was that even possible? Fumbling for the door handle, Dean more or less fell out onto the muddy ground, on his hands and knees. Only bile came up when he heaved. Luckily, it was over quickly. 

Still not sure how the fuck he'd come to be here, Dean stood unsteadily, leaned against the car, brushed off his knees, then his hands. He remembered the deer. Slowly he made his way around the car. The impact had been enough to kill the engine. He couldn't see much, but he didn't smell fire, nor coolant. Most things, Dean could fix or at least MacGyver enough to limp home, but if her engine was cracked or leaking badly, he was fucked. There were flashlights and some tools in the trunk. He'd do what he could, and then see if she'd start and... 

What the fuck!? How could he calmly sit here in some field when Sam was... Sam had... It all rushed back into his brain, all the things Sam had screamed at him as Dean ran away like a coward. He'd never run from a monster unless it was life or death, and he sure as hell shouldn't be running away from the truths Sam had flung at him, painful though they were. _I don't have a choice... She's too good for you..._

He had, though he hadn't seen it till now, put Sam in the same position he'd been, not for money but to ease Dean's own guilt. And Sam was right – Nicole wasn't going to want anything to do with him again, not after learning what he'd tried to orchestrate, without asking. Either his hands were shaking too badly or something in the mechanism was jammed. Dean couldn't get the trunk popped. He kicked the bumper once, then leaned against the truck and screamed. 

* * *

"I... I think I'd like that," Sam said almost shyly when Nicole suggested that he should stay with her for a while. She said he could tell her anything, but of course he couldn't. Still, there were things he wanted to ask her, what college was like – what _life_ was like, the way it was supposed to be.

When they got up from the floor, he felt a little dizzy and he remembered that he hadn't slept after being kicked out of Dean's bed in the middle of the night. Sam let out a big yawn that he couldn't suppress, and as soon as they were sitting on the couch, he leaned against Nicole, snuggled up to her when she hugged him with one arm and pulled him close.

"Feels good," Sam mumbled tiredly. Why couldn't she be his sibling instead of Dean? Having never met Dean, Sam wouldn't be pining for him. If Nicole were his sister, he could lead a normal life, go to school, have friends, maybe a dog, make plans for the future. 

He held on to her and wished this could last forever.

* * *

John looked at his watch for the umpteenth time. Eleven-thirty and they weren't far out but making it back to Bobby's place before midnight would be a challenge. On nights like this, he missed the Impala. Then again, they were riding in one of Bobby's cars with the older man on the wheel, and Bobby refused to speed, even though he knew how important this was.

In all the years, John had never made it home for Sam's birthday. He wasn't sure if it had been on purpose or because Sam's birthday was so painfully related to Mary's death that his subconscious kept him away. In any event, with the way Sam behaved as of recently, John wasn't sure how many years he'd have a chance to see him on his birthday.

He smiled in anticipation of his younger son's face. Even if they arrived after midnight, Sam would have to recognize the effort. And there was even a present for him. Regardless how grumpy Sam always was these days, John was sure he could bring a smile to his son's face: he'd bought him a computer. A new one, paid for with money the elderly couple whose home they'd just rid of a poltergeist had insisted he and Bobby accept for their help. 

John's smile turned into a frown when he noticed the headlights ahead of them. Someone had landed in the ditch, and even if the driver was unhurt and it was just a matter of pulling the car back on the road, it would cost them time. Bobby slowed down and John opened the passenger window, preparing for the worst when he heard the scream. 

Then he recognized the scream at the same time as the car and its owner. He didn't wait until Bobby had brought their car to a standstill. "Dean!" 

With one step, John stood before his eldest and ran his hand over the blood-covered face. There was a cut on Dean's temple that needed stitches, but it would have to wait. He ran around the Impala, noticed the stench of vomit, that her front looked intact, but found no trace of Sam.

"Dean," he called out, panic creeping into his voice. "Where's Sammy?"

* * *

"Yeah, it does," Nicole agreed. She couldn't help but bond a little with Sam, who rested against her, much more relaxed now with some of his huge burden temporarily released. "You're a good guy, Sam. With a good heart. Someday, someone will love you back the way you deserve to be, I'm sure of it. But whatever else, go to school, it's important. If I can do anything at all, maybe a letter of recommendation, when the time comes, you call me, hear?" 

* * *

Dean still had no idea in hell where he was. Headlights appeared in the dark, blinding him, and the next thing he knew, his dad was in his face, shaking him and demanding to know where Sam was. Dean opened his mouth... and froze. If there were any dictionary on the planet with the phrase, 'in deep shit' listed, his face at present would be pictured as an example. John was going to kill him. Only one thing he was ultimately responsible for – look out for Sammy – and this was Dean failing. Since he didn't have a clue how long he'd been knocked out, he couldn't even say with certainty if Sam was at her place. He could have bolted when Dean left. 

"I... I don't know. Not for sure. I took him to Sioux Falls. To meet this girl I know." Dean looked at his father, and Bobby behind him who was just shaking his head, and hoped it would be over fast. 

* * *

"I will," Sam said with a little sigh – a happy one. Maybe he shouldn't feel happy, but Nicole was warm and caring, and he was too drained to cry any more. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in her soft scent. With his nose against her neck, kissing her was almost a reflex. When she didn't flinch, Sam kissed her smooth skin again. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "For everything."

* * *

Dean looked spooked when John spoke to him. After some hesitation, he admitted that he'd taken Sam to Sioux Falls to meet a girl. If not for the possible gravity of the situation, John would have smirked. A girl. It was exactly the kind of birthday present Dean would offer his little brother. John hadn't missed that Sam's underwear was forever adorned with obvious stains, and he silently congratulated his eldest for the idea. 

Relieved that Sam was taken care of for the moment – or, rather, the night, if he considered the sexual hunger of a fifteen-year-old with Sam's stamina – which left Dean to worry about. John brushed the hair aside to get a better look at his head wound. Yes, like he'd thought before, this cut needed to be stitched up. Taking into account that Dean's pupils were blown despite the bright light, the way he swayed and seemed slightly confused as well as the fact that he'd thrown up, John made his decision. "Let's get you home, son," he said. 

John pulled Dean to his feet, then he and Bobby steadied him as they walked him to the car. "Bobby will return and pull her from the ditch, but that can wait until I've looked at your head." They helped him in the back seat and John sat next to him. "Now, don't you fall asleep on me..."

Bobby started the car and John hoped again that the remaining drive wouldn't take long, but for an entirely different reason than only a few minutes before.

* * *

Soft lips graced the side of her neck, and Nicole's breathing hitched, her heartbeat speeding. Sam had told her he was gay and in love so this couldn't be sexual, just friendly, but that didn't stop her body from reacting. "Of course... You're welcome." 

Another minute of that and her nipples hardened, and she tightened her arm around Sam. "Mmmm..." Turning her head, she angled her torso to reach his neck and returned the favor, careful not to leave a mark. He'd been sweating through all his exertions, skin saltier than before, the scent richer. Having little experience in that particular thing, Nicole wondered why her apparently short-circuited gaydar wasn't screeching at her to stop. "Before... I didn't know, you know, about you. It was too forward of me. I wish..." Nicole started again, blushing. She didn't dare utter Dean's name again. "If you were into women, I'd have been happy to... be with you." 

* * *

When John didn't immediate read him the riot act, Dean could have sagged in relief, but if he relaxed any more, his already uncooperative body would hit the ground. Rather than rewrite the book on corporal punishment, John looked him and then Baby over, acting like, well, a concerned father. Dean exchanged looks with Bobby, who seemed puzzled, too, and found himself bundled into the back of Bobby's latest clunker.

Turned out they were only a few miles from home. Well, Bobby's. Dean couldn't even remember most of the drive once he'd left. Sam's caustic words still echoed in his aching head. How was Dean ever going to look the kid in the eye again? Unintentionally at first, he'd gotten them both so addicted to each other's bodies, the withdrawals they were both having now was to the point of unliveable. Drastic measures were needed, if only he knew what. 

As they pulled up into the yard, Dean's head was spinning again, and all he wanted was sleep. Dad had said something about pulling the Impala back onto the road. "I'll go with Bobby," he suggested, only to find himself hauled into the house and plunked onto a chair. "Wha...?" Something cold stung his forehead, near his hairline. 

"Gotta get Baby," he tried to insist, getting nowhere. Yes, Baby. He would get out of here, hunt on his own, that's what he'd do. She was his now; he could go away and not look back, leave Sam alone and put an end to their close-proximity suffering and awkwardness. It wasn't much of a relief.

* * *

For the past two years, Sam thought that whenever he'd been aroused, it was because he was thinking of Dean. To his surprise, his body was now reacting to Nicole. It felt similar, yet also completely different. Oh yes, his cock was swelling and he ached for friction, to rub it against something, but the sheer need that usually came with it wasn't there. Maybe it was because he was too exhausted from the fighting and crying. Or was it because Nicole was a woman?

"'m not sure what I am," Sam admitted, "but you feel good. If..." He grimaced, then shook his head and looked up at her, blushing a little. "If not for Dean," he continued shyly, "I'd have been a very lucky guy to have you as my first lover." 

Sam's blush deepened as he recognized that what he had just said could be interpreted in more than one way, but he ignored the thought because her lips were suddenly so close to his...

* * *

Bobby watched John head for the kitchen where the medical supplies were kept after they'd sat Dean on a chair in the living room. He shook his head at John's eldest's suggestion he go with Bobby and fetch the Impala.

"You ain't goin' nowhere, boy. Hell, it ain't often that I agree with John when it comes to you and Sam, but this time he's right. You're growing a grapefruit on your grapefruit, and I'm not gonna watch you wreck your car. You'll thank me for it later."

Dean made a noise that sounded like disagreement, and Bobby sighed, "Look at you. About to fall off the chair..." He caught Dean's upper body, which was listing – wobbling – to the side, and put him in an upright position again. 

"Dean, I'mma go get my tow-truck and see about the Impala. By the time I'm back, your Dad will have stitched your head, and you can see for yourself that she'll be safe," Bobby said. Again, Dean looked as if he were to protest, but then he just slumped in the chair.

"See ya in a bit." As an afterthought, Bobby placed the dustbin close to Dean's chair and left.

* * *

The moment elongated out for an impossible stretch, where she and Sam just stared at each other. Nicole knew what was about to happen; there was always that pause before the first touch or kiss with Dean, too, where her entire body tensed then gave over to the pull. "Maybe you need to know for sure, or you're curious about the other side." Whichever side – if Sam had been introduced at fourteen or even younger into physical sexuality and had only been with the one man, he hadn't had any opportunity to experiment with females. Nicole could sense he would be faithful to a fault, and while the imagination was rich, try not even to fantasize about a person beyond his lover. 

One thing. If they were moving all the time, how would he even maintain contact. She'd thought of it earlier – phone and email – but his attachment was too deep, his loss too painful to suggest that sort of physical remove. That left... One possibility that was too horrible to think about, even for her, and... "It was Dean, wasn't it? Oh, Sam..." Nicole blinked at the revelation and the drop in her guts when what that meant for her hit. So, Dean must be bisexual. If he was gay, what did he want with her? What a sham. Or was it just that he was hot for his brother? Sam's feelings ran way, way beyond the physical. Didn't Dean know that? He had to. Jesus, these Winchesters would be one hell of a case study. She would be sure to ace her bachelor Thesis next year if... 

No, Sam wasn't a subject but a person. The truth reflected in his eyes, presently dark with gold flecks showing. Before he felt forced to answer or flee, Nicole brought her lips to his. Whatever it was, commiseration, apology that wasn't even hers to make, simple comfort, she needed to show him the whole world wasn't as fucked as this situation, but there was no time or resources, only her body. She kissed him like it was the last opportunity on earth, though she hoped it was only the first between them, sucking at his lower lip. Drawing back, she tried again, changing the angle; his lips moved a little, and she licked at the seam. When he didn't react angrily, she gave in to her own need and straddled his lap again. Yes, there was his erection, pulsing in his jeans; she pressed herself to him, rubbing against him. The ache of arousal between her thighs spiked. 

"Put your hands on me," she whispered. If he would do that much, then she was going to ravish him, as much as a woman could a man. Sam's body was lanky, so different than Dean's, but it felt somehow right. And, well, they did have that – him – in common. 

* * *

Great, now they were treating him like an infant. Dean felt as weak and wobbly as a newborn at the moment, evidenced by Bobby having to shove him upright before heading out to pull Baby from the field. He reached up with a groping hand to find a massive lump on his head, besides the cut John was currently rooting for supplies for, to take care of. 

"Dad... You're not mad?" Reduced to the vocabulary of a child right now, Dean referred to both the car and Sammy being left alone to have sex with a strange – to Sam, anyway – girl. The fact that John hadn't shown him the business end of his pistol or fist at the scene was a good sign, but then Dean was always one to tempt fate, now wasn't he? 

* * *

Nicole's face moved closer to his and Sam knew they were going to kiss. When she suggested that he may need to know for sure or was curious about the other side, the part of his brain that was still – barely – functioning tacitly agreed with her. He wasn't in love with her, but he definitely had strong feelings toward this woman he'd only met an hour ago. And she'd said it was okay...

_"It was Dean, wasn't it? Oh, Sam..."_

And then her lips met his and she kissed him, gently first, then she sucked at his lower lip, and Sam's brain melted. It didn't matter any longer that she _knew:_ Sam knew he could trust her with his heart as well as with his body.

When Nicole drew back a little, he reacted and caught her lips with his, shivering when she licked at them. Nicole paused and straddled him, making him gasp into her mouth when he felt her heat against his dick. 

_"Put your hands on me,"_ she whispered. Sam blinked, trying to think, but between his racing heart and the throbbing in his groin, he was too afraid of making a wrong move, so he only kissed her again, pressing back when she rubbed against him. 

* * *

"My madness will be nothing compared to Sam's if I pull him off his first date," John replied while he opened a suture kit. "As for the Impala, if you put scratches on her that'll be punishment enough for you. Now hold still."

There were few things John hated as much as seeing one of his children hurt, but Dean mustn't think his father had grown soft on them. He steeled himself as he first poured a measure of Everclear on the wound, then scrubbed at it to lay the cut bare so he could see the damage. Dean winced and as much as he tried to act unimpressed, John saw the tears and the tightly-clenched fists. He forced himself to ignore his eldest's pain as he threaded the needle through the flesh and closed the wound. It was a clean cut and if there was no infection, it wouldn't leave a significant scar. John applied antibiotic ointment and taped a dressing on Dean's temple, then gave his son a long, critical look.

"Bedtime it is. Do you need help undressing?"

* * *

Sam didn't make a move but neither did he push her away. Nicole ran her hands slowly up and down his arms, first the silky shirt, then his skin, which was smooth other than a few raised veins. Under the skin, his muscles and tendons tensed. Then Sam kissed her more firmly, like he had made up his mind, and she breathed easier. He was good at it. Her belly flipped again when she realized just how well he knew how to kiss. Dean started soft, but Sam was unleashed heat. He tilted his head, accepted her tongue and pushed his own into her mouth with a moan. They kissed and licked and slid tongue against tongue, breaking and starting over again, and again.

"Wanna see you," she gasped. Leaning her torso away a little, Nicole brought her hands to Sam's chest, her palms to his flat, hard pectorals. Undoing the buttons of his shirt while he panted and watched her, Nicole parted the material at last to reveal his upper body, hairless but for a thin treasure trail like his brother, but thinner, longer, darker. His nipples, tight little points centered on light brown areolas, were wider spaced upon his chest. She wondered if they might be as sensitive as Dean's. With the shirt out of the way, the bulge at his crotch was no longer hidden, and it looked pretty impressive. She wanted to touch it, get his dick in her hand, but didn't want to freak him out by going too fast. More heat stabbed at her groin, wetness leaking now, too, till she clenched tight there. "This is... Sorry for staring, but you're..." No, it wasn't about what he looked like, though that didn't exactly detract. "You're a sexy little shit," she whispered. 

Bending down, she licked across one nipple. Sam jerked and she did it again, sucking the tight nub into her mouth and biting gently. "Like that, huh?" Breathy gasps told her that he more than liked it. Licking across the center of his chest, Nicole repeated the action on the other erect bud, pulling harder. Sam still had his arms wrapped loosely around her but that was all, so far he was too reserved or unsure to touch her further. Maybe if he looked first... Then they'd know if he was put off by her – female – body. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, Nicole pulled it over her head and tossed it, leaving her upper body in just her dark blue bra.

* * *

The sting of alcohol in his open wound brought Dean into sharp focus, and he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to keep quiet while his father stitched the gash. He'd had stitches before, many times. He could never get used to the jab of the needle and the pulling of thread through his skin.

'Pull your brother off his date.' John had no idea of what he was saying. Once again, Dean had 'pulled off' the impossible. Sam didn't want it, was against it in theory. His teenaged hormones were rampant enough that a warm body and a little friction were enough to get him hard. Dean had been right, that if push came to shove, Nicole would take care of Sam just fine, but the girl had a heart too and she wouldn't let Dean close to her again. 

His reflections were interrupted by John asking if he needed help with his clothes. It was an innocent question, and his father had helped him before in the worst possible situations but in Dean's still somewhat altered frame of mind, the question struck him all wrong. He jumped up and backed away. "No! Don't touch me!" he yelled. He'd have laughed at the shocked look on his father's face, if it were funny at all. "Stay the hell away." Spinning, then lurching up the stairs, Dean locked the door to his room behind him and jammed a chair under the knob. Then his knees gave out and he fell onto the bed before he could do so much as get his shoes off, cradling his head. Blackness took him.

* * *

Dean was the only person he'd ever kissed, and Sam found that kissing Nicole wasn't as different as he'd expected. Her lips were as soft as Dean's, and her touches as gentle. She tasted of alcohol, just like Dean did sometimes, and the overall perception sent more blood downward. He gasped, kissing her harder and she responded until their tongues met and Sam's whole body was tingling.

About to protest when she broke the kiss, he could only look at her with burning eyes as she undid his shirt, Dean's present. The thought fled from his mind immediately when she touched his chest, then bent down to...

_"Nuuuhh!!!"_

Sam had cum so many times from Dean's mouth on him or his fingers inside him that he'd lost count. One thing Dean had often teased him about was that Sam's nipples were highly sensitive, apparently just like a girl's, whenever he was aroused, to the point that Dean had suggested to one day bring him off only from playing with his nipples. They'd never gotten there – and now they never would – but when Nicole started licking his tight nubs, then biting and pulling at them with her teeth, he feared he'd lose it right there and then.

"Oh god," he moaned when she stopped to take her shirt off. Suddenly unsure what to do, the only thing Sam could think of was Dean telling him how girls loved to have their breasts touched. It figured since he got off on it so much, but he still gave Nicole an insecure look, ready to pull away at the smallest sign of discomfort, when he slowly cupped her breasts with his hands.

She didn't pull away. Instead, her eyes widened and a soft gasp escaped from her o-shaped mouth as his thumbs found her hardened nipples under the bra.

"I... Is this..." Sam's voice was hoarse. "You like this...?"

* * *

After Dean had gone to bed, John settled down in the kitchen with a whiskey. He'd tried to call Sam on his cell phone, but wasn't surprised when the call went straight to voice-mail. John made up his mind to give Sam until the morning. Dean had an acute sense for trouble and he'd sounded more worried about the Impala than about Sam's safety, so John decided to trust his eldest's instincts for the time being.

Two hours later, Bobby returned and reported that the Impala didn't show any obvious or hidden damage – he'd even made sure that the frame wasn't bent. John had been torn between the urge of checking up on Dean, who had a head injury after all, and granting him the rest he needed. Now, with the good news on the car, he went to Dean's room. 

Of course, the door was locked, and after picking the lock, John shook his head in annoyance and admiration at the chair under the knob. Still, Dean didn't reply when John asked if he was okay, so he had to go in. Bobby kept weapons all over the house, and pushing the chair out of the way by sliding the ancient sword hanging on the wall opposite Dean's room under the door took only a few seconds.

John didn't care whether Dean was ignoring him, but if the crash of the chair hadn't woken him up, it was time to get worried. Only one way to find out.

"Dean, talk to me, and I'll tell you about the Impala."

* * *

Finally, Sam reached for her, unwrapping his arms from around her back and fitting his hands – really large hands – hesitantly around her breasts. Nicole moaned and arched into it, goosebumps chasing over her skin. The two impatient heat spots radiated outward, the nerves sensitized to every minute rub. "Yeah, totally okay, more than okay." As he squeezed gently and thumbed her stiff nipples, Nicole explored with both hands down the planes his stomach, toned with baby-soft flesh, tiny near-invisible hairs which seemed to stand up in her wake. He had an innie navel, a neat little divot with coarser hairs leading down. She traced the line. 

At his belt, hand on the buckle, she stopped, taking in Sam's flushed cheeks and shallow breathing. He looked so intent, eyes half-lidded, lit from within and keen. "Can I...?" 

* * *

Groggy as hell, Dean surfaced to the wooden chair he'd shoved under the doorknob crashing to the floor. In the next instant, John was standing over him. Dean crabbed backward till his back hit the wall. To his relief, his dad didn't come any closer. His mouth was moving, but it took Dean several slow blinks for the sense of any of the words to wash over him. "Impala... Baby? Wha-? Did I hurt her?"

* * *

Fascinated by the soft and yet firm swell of Nicole's breasts in his hands, Sam continued to carefully stroke them while watching her closely. There was no doubt that she enjoyed what he was doing and he smiled, encouraged by her moans. 

His breathing soon grew more and more ragged as she trailed her hands down his abdomen, circling his navel, and his hips twitched, partly from being ticklish, but the foremost part was arousal that grew with every second and the closer Nicole's hand got to his waistband.

When she reached for his belt buckle, Sam felt reduced to 'want' and 'need' – and then she asked if she could undo his pants! His brain had already turned to mush, but somehow he managed to nod eagerly.

"Please!" It came out in a squeaky voice, and he hurried to add, "But only if you want... this, too?"

* * *

"Your 'Baby' is fine," John said, half annoyed by the ruckus and half amused by Dean's reaction. "And now that I know you're okay, too, go back to sleep. And the door stays open this time. Can't have the whole house waking up every time I need to check on your melon."

Dean kept staring at him, and John gave an exaggerated sigh. "What? Did you think I wouldn't look after you? Now lay down again unless you want me to tuck you in."

* * *

"Wanna see you, all of you." The little lurch of Sam's hips and his eager tone at her question took Nicole's breath away. She worked at his belt silently, meeting his eyes then looking down again. The pin dislodged, she let the two ends hang loose and undid the metal button of his jeans, really expensive designer jeans. A present? She didn't ask. "These look great on you, but I'll like them better, off." She laughed at her stupid choice of words, explaining. "Sorry about the bad porno line." 

Taking it slow, Nicole pulled the zipper down. His erection made things tight, and she didn't want to risk hurting him. Her hands shook a little, out of eagerness. Below, he had what looked like boxer briefs, thank god not whitey-tighties. "'Kay... Don't be afraid to tell... Whatever. Slow down, speed up, anything." 

She slid her right hand into his underwear, where it was hot and a little damp and yes, god, he was so freaking hard. They both gasped sharply. Nicole grasped him tight, rewarded by a powerful surge of blood under her fingers. Something was unfamiliar about the play of velvety skin over the rigid structures below. She pushed the cloth down. "Uncircumcised?" Not typical for an American boy his age, especially when others in the same family already had been cut, though many doctors didn't practice it anymore when not medically necessary. She was delighted. 

Not only that, she was dripping wet now since getting her hand on Sam's cock. Her lips and tits felt swollen, and her clit beat an obnoxious rapid tango in her groin. Nicole was determined to follow Sam's lead, or for sure give him time to enjoy it a little. Round one was all about taking the edge off. 

Leaning in, she captured his slack mouth again and began to stroke, long slides up and down. Like Dean, he leaked when he was turned on, and more of it dripped down to coat her hand in slippery pre-cum. 

* * *

"Da-aaad... I'm nineteen. C'n take care of m'self." Dean slid down the mattress and buried his head in the pillow. The locked and barricaded door hadn't kept his dad out so he didn't bother to do it again. The car being alright was good news. John yelling at him about her wouldn't have had anything on how Dean would have castigated himself, if she'd been damaged.

Tomorrow, he'd have to drive back to Sioux Falls to pick up Sam. From his observations of normal family life, through past schoolmates and dates, Dean carried scorn about chores and rules and curfews – it was mostly because civs had no idea about what real work, real responsibilities, and real family loyalty meant. Dean only bothered to consider it odd for a second that his father, who'd forever ragged on him for being too promiscuous, hadn't said boo about his 15-year-old being gone overnight, getting laid. No way John thought Sam would return home still a virgin. 

There was no understanding their dad. 

Then Dean was out again. 

* * *

Sam couldn't believe it when Nicole proceeded to undress him; it had to be a dream. How was it possible that he'd fought tooth and nail against Dean's suggestion, and now, barely an hour – he'd lost all sense of time – later, he was sitting here with her, making out heavily, and never wanting to stop again.

He opened his mouth to explain why he had intact foreskin, but she began to stroke him and every word he may have intended to say got stuck and came out as a soft moan. 

_"God!"_

As much as Sam tried to stop himself from thrusting, his urge wouldn't be denied. Nicole leaned in and they kissed again. His whole body was tingling with pleasure. Sam was in heaven, but he knew he wouldn't, couldn't last. He was burning to return the favor, but wasn't sure how. Oh, he knew that girls had a clitoris, but he had no idea what and how Nicole had in mind. It was clear that she was into this, but how was he supposed to react?

"Nicole, w-wait..." She ended the kiss and looked in his eyes but didn't stop caressing his erection. Instead of the steady strokes, she changed to sliding his foreskin up and down over the crown, adding a little twist to the head now and then. Sam's eyes widened as he gasped and panted, sure that he'd lose it any second now if she didn't stop.

'You'd better stop unless..." Sam's throat was dry and swallowing didn't help. "'m close..."

* * *

Sam stopped her with a warning, which impressed Nicole. Going motionless, she kept her hand wrapped low around the blood-flushed cylinder, where his balls were pulling up against the side of her fingers. "Good, Sam." She'd half-expected he'd lose control and explode. But then, he'd learned sex at Dean's hands, such a revelation that was. Of course he'd be well-versed in his own body's signals. 

"We've got all night, though." Letting go of his cock, Nicole humped his thigh a few times – the pressure was getting to her, too. Then she slid to the floor between his legs, onto her knees. "Just enjoy this... Let it go whenever you need to." Past experience would only serve her so far; the boy was packing and she could only take about half his length, but Nicole was determined to do her best. She licked the head, all around the ridge, rolled the foreskin up and sucked hard. When she needed a breath, she peeled it slowly back, exposing the purple glans, lapping Sam's trickling little slit. 

It had to be right, the way his belly trembled and he pushed his legs wide apart on his own, like he was rubbing his butt on the couch while thrusting up into her mouth. That turned her on to no end, his hips' jump and push every time she flicked her tongue. Not neat, not hardly! Drool ran down her chin, onto his balls which were almost as hard now as his dick. Taking a big breath, Nicole tightened her lips, slid them up and down, meeting every shallow thrust.

* * *

"Fuuu-!" Sam bit his lip and clenched his hands into fists to stop the unavoidable. "Wanna..." 

God, he needed it so bad! He'd mostly refrained from touching himself these past two weeks, afraid of being overwhelmed by his emotions. His balls were hurting now, his body so desperate to release that tears formed in his eyes, but he couldn't let go yet. Even though Nicole had just told him to, Sam needed more reassurance.

"What... what about you?" he panted.

* * *

It was endearing, that this close to the edge, shaking and watery-eyed, Sam would ask after her pleasure. Nicole pulled off with a slurp. "You're sweet," she licked a few more times. "I'll get mine later... Let it go for me, Sam. Let me see... See you come..." 

Sliding her fist down to the thick base of him, she engulfed the head and more. Powerful twitches told her how close he was, but maybe he needed something more...? She held her breath and sucked hard, till her cheeks hollowed. With her other hand, she reached between his legs as best she could with clothes still half-obscuring things, massaging his balls, one then the other, with little circles of her thumb. Bitter-salt ran onto her tongue and she waited for the flood. 

* * *

"Mnnaaww...." Sam groaned. He was so close that he was literally drooling, not only leaking from his dick like he always did as soon as he had an erection, but also from his mouth, and the fluids that had gathered in his balls made them feel as if they were filled with molten lead. He tried to warn her but couldn't.

"Nnnngghhh..." Sam's eyes squeezed shut and his whole body stiffened as the tingling started deep in his belly, a sensation of heat spreading outwards. His butt cheeks were buzzing, and then it was concentrating around his entrance which spasmed. Once, twice, and then he was there.

_"Mnnuuhhhh!!!"_

Sam's instincts took over as he propelled his load into Nicole's mouth in hard, painful bursts. His whole body cramped in the rhythm dictated by the strong contractions of his spermatic cords, and his initial screams changed into muffled keening sounds coming from deep in his throat. On and on it went until he felt so empty, as if his body had turned inside out, and he went limp with a choked sob.

"'cole..." was all Sam could whisper when it was over, but he felt a tiny bit of triumph that at least he hadn't screamed for his brother.

* * *

The sounds Sam no longer held in were going to kill her – Nicole had never heard a man carry on like that, like the moans were pulling his peak and his seed forth. And the look on his face... Eyes rolled back, swollen lips drawn into a snarl the had nothing to do with spite and everything to do with sex. But Nicole had heard Sam's vow earlier, that he wouldn't be with anyone he didn't care about deeply; the connection made it more arousing, more special. 

Before she was really ready, hot bursts of cream filled her mouth. Sam's entire body rocked with each jet. His muscles locked, stood out defined in his torso and arms. God, he was art, he was ecstasy. And Nicole had a mouthful of spunk to deal with. So much – no wonder his orgasm had been so strong. 

It took some effort, but Nicole tilted her head back and gulped. She got most of it down, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. By now, sweat was running down her temples and between her breasts. Sam had slumped like someone had thrown him onto the sofa, where he rested, almost comical with his chest heaving and his dick hanging out. Almost. It was hot, too, to know she was responsible for giving this beautiful boy a release to render him speechless. 

So far, Sam hadn't uttered a coherent word but half her name, in a whisper. Nicole crawled up on the couch beside him, facing him and resting her arm across his body in a loose hug. "You're beautiful, Sam. That was wonderful." After the semen mouthwash, he probably wouldn't kiss her, and she didn't try. The real thing, she'd do in a moment.

She hoped there'd be no regrets on his part. He hadn't tried to leave since she'd touched him for real. Nicole waited till his breathing slowed, then suggested, "We could go to my room. Not sure when my roommates might be back, and there's supplies in there. No pressure, though." Yeah, no pressure but the tightening vise between her legs. She needed to put her hands all over his naked body, feel those large sensitive fingers explore her, have him in her, share the sort of intimacy two lost souls could. Whether it be pseudo or real, only time would tell. 

Standing, Nicole held out her hand. "C'mon..." And though she didn't want to be at his mercy or anyone's, ever, she begged, "Please, Sam."

* * *

It took a long time till Sam's ability to speak returned, and then Sam didn't know what to say. When Nicole told him he was beautiful and 'it' had been wonderful, he blushed, aware that he should be the one to say exactly these things to her.

"Um," he replied sheepishly, _"you're_ beautiful and that was..." Sam smiled, feeling his cheeks turn even redder. "I think the word hasn't been invented yet." 

Nicole suggested they should go to her room, indicating that her roommates may return. That brought him to his feet in less than a second. Being caught with his dick hanging out of his pants wasn't how he'd imagined the evening. It had already gone far differently than anything he could have expected, but that was a definite no.

She held out her hand and Sam took it. Instead of following her, however, he first pulled her flush against him and kissed her. Tasting himself on her lips was a turn-on, although he couldn't say why. Maybe because Dean used to love pushing Sam's cream into his mouth after blowing him, which never failed to get him ready for another round.

"Yeah," he whispered, "I c'n cum again if that's what you want, but let me take care of you first. Only, you may need to tell me what to do. I... I'm probably not very good at this..."

* * *

The mention of roommates had Sam on his feet in a second. Before they proceeded to Nicole's room, though, he kissed her, licking stray smears of seed off her lips and delving into her mouth for more of the taste. His urgency was gone, tongue tracing her teeth, tickling the roof of her mouth. Not as relaxed, Nicole clung to him and moaned his name. 

When they broke, Sam insisted again, blushing and stumbling over words, that he 'take care of her'. Nicole's own face flushed, not out of embarrassment but because the idea of teaching Sam how to pleasure a woman pierced her lower body with multiple shocks of pure lust. Without her consent, her brain painted images of him between her own spread legs, those eyes fixed on her, tongue lapping... "It's... God! I could get really bossy for a while, yeah." She backed off and ran her hands through her hair. "So, have you done anything with a girl before?" 

Through more blushing, he indicated no. For a guy who'd admitted he'd done everything but full-on sex, the innocence about him, combined with a certain lack of inhibition, was a powerful stimulant. Maybe the mix was just Sam – everyone had a certain feel to them. Hell, he'd probably still come across like that in ten years, with a couple dozen girls or guys notched on his belt. Or, if she were to believe him, maybe a lot less. Her eyes watered for no reason but intense arousal. "I'm gonna fall over in a second, shaky knees and all that." Nicole assumed he knew about that response. 

Her body moving sluggishly, Nicole took Sam's hand again and they navigated to her room. Dimly lit, only the bedside lamp, which she purposefully used a low-watt bulb in, burned. She closed the door soundlessly behind him, and locked it. Being naughty and taking chances was all good till you got walked in on – that wasn't her thing. 

Sam's green shirt still hung unbuttoned from his shoulders. Stepping around him, Nicole slid it off and hung it on the doorknob. "That's too nice to end up crumpled on the floor." She admired the strong lines of his back and shoulders, a few scattered moles here and there. These Winchester boys might not look anything alike, something she'd noticed immediately upon meeting Sam, but they were built like warriors. Nicole gave his butt cheek a little squeeze, grinning when Sam whined and shuddered. "Ass man, huh? Of course you are. I'll touch you there, or anywhere you want. All you have to do is ask."

Kicking off her boots, she padded over to the bed. Sure she was picking up Dean's scent on the comforter, she blinked up at his brother while she unbuttoned her jeans. "Wanna help?" 

* * *

Sam's face was still flushed red with embarrassment, especially after Nicole asked him whether he'd done anything with a girl before, but she also suggested she could teach him – 'get bossy' were her words – and referred to shaky knees. It made him smile. Oh yes, he knew exactly how that felt, and the knowledge that he, Sam, had made her knees go weak, spiked a wave of weird pride in him. 

"Tell me how," he whispered when they were in her room, "and I'll make the earth shake, not only your knees..." It sounded so silly that he couldn't suppress a laugh, and all of a sudden the awkwardness fled, the atmosphere lightened. 

Sam's eyes clouded a little when Nicole commented on his shirt – Dean's present – but when she squeezed his butt cheek, his brother was far from his mind. 

"Ass man, uh, yeah, I guess so," he replied. "I, um, like being touched..." Sam coughed. Maybe this was a little too intimate yet. Thankfully, at that moment, she asked him if he wanted to help her unbutton her jeans.

"Hell, yes," Sam hissed. Regardless how determined he was to undress her, his fingers wouldn't quite cooperate. In the end, Nicole was the one who popped the button, but it was Sam who slid her jeans down her thighs with shaking hands. Her scent hit him and his nostrils flared. She smelled so different from Dean, but archaic instincts told him that she wanted him, needed him, as much as he needed her.

"Nicole," Sam moaned, "please, can I..." Without waiting for her reply, he knelt before her and nuzzled his face against her hip, inhaling the musk of her womanhood.

"Please, I want to taste you..."

* * *

"Then I'd better lie down before I fall down," whispered Nicole. Sam's face right at her crotch, warm breath plumed over her sensitized skin with every word. She shoved her panties down, and along with her jeans, to the floor, where she stepped out and kicked them aside. The bed was right behind her, and she slid onto it, on her back but braced up on both elbows. Their eyes met again, and Sam followed, crawling up. 

That first moment of showing him _everything_ scraped her nerves. Nicole wasn't ashamed of her body or anything that went on concerning sex. There was always just that little bit of worry that at the last moment, a new partner would get cold feet, or find her unappealing, specifically her scent or her genitalia. It was a lot of trust to grant anyone. Sam looked, his nostrils flared, he opened his mouth slightly and... Okay, so Nicole had bad porno dialogue and he had cheesy romance novel excerpts. She giggled along with him and opened her legs to give him better access. 

"Go ahead, look, touch... Quick anatomy lesson. I'm sure you've seen diagrams or dirty magazines; the real thing is, maybe not what you imagined..." If he imagined it at all. She slid one hand down over her stomach, propping herself up on the other elbow, then over her nearly-black pubic curls. Sam was almost crouched over her, hands clamped on her thighs like he'd spread her mercilessly and consume her whole. Fuck, she hurt, spasming on the inside. 

"I don't shave everything 'cuz it takes like three hours. So... Outer labia, or lips. Inner. Vagina, or your euphemism of choice." Hitching her legs up a bit, she shoved two fingers inside. "...MMMmmmm....! Men get hard, and they might leak a bit. Women get wet and slick." That was more than evident. Her underwear had been soaked through and more juice ran down. "...taint and hole, or perineum and anus if you're being proper, back there, same terms as for guys." 

Before moving on, she fingered herself a little longer. Her hips rolled. "It aches, the female version of blueballs, I'd guess, from wanting you so much. On the inside, the muscles squeeze hard and it's like they scream to be filled up and stretched with dick." 

"But," Nicole knew she was getting wordy on one of her very favorite subjects, "if you really wanna move heaven and earth... then you work the clit." She put her index finger directly on it, shivered, and moved it aside a fraction. "See? Tiny bump, it'll stand up a little, if it's stimulated, it's a woman's pleasure spot. Billions of nerves, like the head of your penis. More than anything, I like to be licked there... Till I come... And then, during the aftershocks, that's when we make love..."

* * *

"Sweet lord," Sam whispered as he crawled on the bed after Nicole had freed herself of her jeans and panties. He watched intently and listened to her explanations. A part of him was amused that he could absorb the information despite his returning – and growing – arousal, but he wanted to know everything. Nicole seemed to understand, and his heart went out to her. Why had he been so afraid of meeting her? He had to admit, however grudgingly, that Dean's 'choice' of Nicole as the first girl for Sam was a perfect match.

"You licked my dick," he replied, "and that was awesome. I said I wanna taste you, so," Sam couldn't help grinning, "I have an idea where this might be going, right?"

He looked back from her face to her crotch and cocked his head. "Since you mentioned making love during the... your aftershocks, I suppose we should get undressed before that." He tugged at his jeans. "And, um, I should put on a condom."

Suddenly realizing that they were going to do it, that he was about to sleep with a girl, Sam turned nervous. He'd sounded so cocky only a moment before, just like he imagined Dean would have. However, he might not keep up with Nicole's expectations.

"I want to lick you," Sam said. "And then... I really, _really_ want to make love to you, but, well, I'm kinda..." He looked down and licked his lips. _What if Dean returns?_ he wanted to ask, but it was unfair because it would probably put an end to their... lust.

He took his shirt off and then his pants and underwear and socks. "Can I start with your, uh, clit, maybe, and we'll take it from there? Sorry for being such a spoilsport... I'll try to make up for it... And I'd really love it if you'd, er, take off your bra..."

* * *

Every single word and gesture from Sam poured more liquid arousal into Nicole's veins. While he mused aloud, he took off his remaining clothes. Naturally darker skin than Dean, minus the freckles, not as broad in the shoulders but he would be in a few years... She should really stop comparing. The dark swatches of hair under his arms and at his groin proved his physical maturity – as if what they'd already done needed a second opinion. He was put together so nicely, and that included the things he kept saying, following his thoughts: _You licked my dick... Wanna taste you... Put on a condom..._ Every phrase wrenched another gush of lubrication from deep inside her. A faint series of breathless groans caught and released from her throat. 

"Hey, don't apologize... I love that you're so forthright in talking about what you want. And I'd be happy to get rid of the medieval torture device, I mean bra." Nicole grinned and sat up. Sure, hers, like a lot of them, was made to be fancy and pretty but she still hated wearing it. It was no coincidence she'd picked one that hooked in the front. Releasing the catch, she sighed in relief at escapeing from the evil underwire and took her breasts in her hands, massaging them lightly, thumbing the nipples. "Much better! And there's condoms..." She reached over to pull out the top drawer of her bedside table and rummaged for one. "You can do it, or I can," she smirked, "or you can wait till, er, I get off the first time. I know you'll figure it out."

She'd been watching Sam's body, not only for aesthetic beauty but for its reactions. Totally interested in seeing her body, learning it, Sam had been more than half hard when he'd undressed, and by now his cock was upright. The head peeked out of the foreskin, purple and shiny. His chest was flushed, too, the nipples pulled tight. Just as she had to clench and flex her cunt to keep from going crazy, Sam, she noticed, tightened his gluteal muscles. Maybe it was unconscious, but she meant to find out later. And a lot more about what he liked, too. But at the moment, she needed his touch or the promised tongue-lashing so badly her only instinct was to lean back again and spread her legs wide, pushing her crotch up. 

"You wanna taste... Please, can't wait! Need you, Sam. Your tongue, my clit – right now." Again, she tapped at her swollen nub, then moved her finger out of the way, holding the labia back. The anticipation was killing her, but the more wound up they got, the more spectacular the pay-out. 

* * *

When Nicole bared her... clit... and held back her labia, Sam's first thought was that he'd never be able to fit inside her body. The second was that he wanted to be in her, so much that it hurt. But if her clit was _there_ , how would she be able to gain pleasure from him inside her? It didn't make sense. Then he remembered how Dean's fingers felt inside of him, stroking that incredible spot, and how it got him off. Maybe girls had something similar? Then again, did it matter? Nicole had made it more than clear that she wanted Sam's dick inside her body. What else did he need to know? And he could always ask her afterward...

"Yeah, wanna taste you," Sam rasped, wondering how his voice had gone so hoarse. He was literally drooling with lust now, and it was matched by the glistening of her skin... tissues... all over the swollen nub between her legs. "I wanna..."

Sam settled between her spread thighs. Her scent hit him like a pole axe, and although he had, for a moment, considered teasing her, licking her everywhere before focusing on the tiny bud, he suddenly couldn't wait any longer. 

There was a fleeting thought at the back of his mind that he should keep his dick away from her, and he stammered, "I... um... I... kinda... leak when I'm, um, you know. So I'll keep my, er, distance, and Imayneedyourhelplater..." 

Unable to stop himself, Sam gave Nicole's clit a first, tentative lick and rejoiced in her responding shudder. She tasted... weird. Not disgusting, he thought that he quite liked the taste, but he'd never tasted anything like it before and he savored it for a moment before she raised her hips in an obvious hint that he should continue.

"Impatient much?" Sam couldn't resist asking, then he remembered she'd compared the tiny bump to a man's penis. He shivered and moaned when he thought of licking Dean's erection, making his brother lose it spectacularly. Could it really be so simple...?

"Gonna make it good," he announced and delved in, sucking at the hard little bud and alternating the sucking with criss-crossing licks over it, breaking only for a second when he looked up at her flushed face. 

"Tell me what you need!"

* * *

For a long moment, Sam just stared. After all this, would he finally reach his limit and decline? Then Nicole noticed his nostrils flare, and he inhaled her scent. Pupils already dilated from the dim lighting, they went huge and black, all but obscuring the rings of changeable color. When he bent down to take the first experimental taste, she thought she'd fly off the bed or die of the first strokes across all those screaming nerves. Her hips bucked up to Sam's apparent amusement. "God, yeah...! Need more!" 

And he gave it to her, throwing himself into the business of licking her clit just as she'd ordered him. The one organ on a woman's body that served no purpose but to aid pleasure, right there were soft laps, the pursing of his lips around it and suction. "Uuuuunnggg... Nnnngh!" Nicole moaned and whined and pushed up against Sam's mouth, her pelvis jerking each time he switched from sucking to licking or changed directions. Whatever he said when he came up for air, it got lost in the buzzing haze of raw need. 

"Sam... Put your fingers in me! And then, lick in circles." With one hand, she had been guiding his head a little, but she needed something to clamp down on. Legs snapping open so far her knees touched the mattress, Nicole flopped down flat on her back. Under Sam's tongue, her clit expanded, not freakishly, but it surged and throbbed, pulling her insides tight with the need to come. He whipped a series of circling licks around the border of the tiny shaft, and Nicole sobbed in desperation. "Love this... So good, Sam... So close!" 

Two fingers slid into her, past more aroused and needy nerves at her entrance. It squelched, she was so wet. Slowly, the digits extended, as if giving her time to stretch. Not needed! This was only a preview – later, she was going to have all of him stuffed inside, the length and girth of him driving her to ecstasy... But Nicole remembered again that Sam hadn't been with a girl, and he was accustomed to the more cautious approach necessary to breach what to her was the other hole. "It's okay... Women were born to take it, you won't hurt me... Keep licking and twist your hand... Mmmwwwaaah!"

The unwordable 'right' combination, whatever it was, he'd just done it. Nicole was keening, rolling her hips, squeezing with all her power, to chase her orgasm on his tongue. "GodSampleasemakemecome... You're so damned good!" More perfect, circling swirls. "...Coming...!" The taut draw of the tendons in her thighs, the congestion inside, now stroked by Sam's long fingers, and especially the explosive release in her clit, radiating back to that spot inside, overwhelmed her and she wailed loud enough to wake the neighbors. It went on and on, one wave of release after another. Sam's tongue furiously batted at her throughout. Finally, it was over and she slid back a few inches, out of reach. 

"Oh my god, that was... so good," she finished lamely with a shaky laugh. His hand was still in her, and he looked absolutely shell-shocked. Nicole sat up a little to see how he'd lain between her thighs, on his belly, humping the bed. "Did you save any for me? I'm greedy... Want you in me now. Come up here." She held our her arms, inviting him up. 

* * *

_"God, yeah...! Need more!" "Uuuuunnggg... Nnnngh!"_

Sam came up for air and looked at Nicole in pure awe. Was it possible that it was really him doing this to her? That he was the one making her shudder and moan, making her beg for more like she'd die if he stopped? His dick surged. She'd just made him cum, but her sounds... Sam shuddered and delved in again.

Then she told him she needed his fingers inside her, and Sam's heart skipped a beat. Oh yes, she'd announced that they'd make love, but now that she actually asked for his fingers, it took on a different quality, became more real. He hesitated, but when Nicole sobbed, he told himself to get it together and slid two fingers into her. 

Nicole's body jerked and Sam stiffened. He'd never done this with a girl before and when he remembered the first time he'd fingered himself, how it had hurt... Before he could apologize, however, Nicole told him it was okay, that he wasn't hurting her. Her deep groan following that statement could have been misinterpreted as pain, but by now Sam had a sense of what her arousal sounded like, and he concentrated on her clit, licking it in circles as she'd asked him to, while slowly sliding his digits in and out of her.

The heat inside her! Sam was dizzy when it occurred to him how it would feel around his erection. It was obvious that Nicole was close, and the way her tunnel clenched around him made Sam moan with need, too. Her inner walls weren't as smooth as his own entrance, but there was no doubt that some place inside her felt as good as having his prostate played with.

He sped up his stroking and licking, and Nicole went wild. She bucked and moaned like a wounded animal while the contractions around his fingers became almost painful. Yearning to be inside _that_ , to feel her massaging his dick, Sam continued licking and sucking until she pulled back a little. 

After only a moment of breathless panting, Nicole told him that she wanted him now, and Sam's dick released another squirt of clear fluid.

"God, yes," he moaned, "I want that. Please, Nicole, I need your help." He was almost as wet as she felt around his fingers, and that might be a problem. "I... I, um, leak a lot, and I may have some... stuff... on my hands." Sam swallowed. "Could you put the, um, condom on me? I don't wanna make a mistake here and get you in trouble..."

Between his legs, his erection twitched painfully. "Please hurry!"

* * *

Face shiny with her wetness, Sam looked up at her over her still twitching, grinding body in something like awe, as if she were a religious icon who'd just bestowed a blessing. He was breathing hard, and immediately asked her to put the condom on him, explaining he had some of his 'stuff' on his hands. "Now who's impatient?" she asked, and reached for the packet to tear it open. "Raise up a little for me."

When he did, Nicole saw the state of him, trickles of pre-come smearing his dick. His balls looked painfully tight, as well. To keep him distracted, she kept talking. "I'm clean, and I'm on the Pill, but you're wise to take precautions anyway. It shows you care – about your partner and about yourself. Never let anyone talk you out of safety, not unless you're in a committed, exclusive relationship and test negative for everything. If it's a girl, make sure there's some other form of protection." She rolled the latex down over the bounding flesh, squeezing down to the base. Sam moaned loud, deep in his chest, primitive. 

"Can't wait to have that inside me. And now... You're ready. I'm still shaking – you made me come so hard, and this time I want..." Nicole's words cut out with a gasp as Sam jostled her thighs wide, to crowd in. The round tip of his prick sought among the slick pink folds. She grabbed Sam's taut little butt in both hands and reeled him in, gasping then wailing at his weight on her, his cock spearing into her. Her body clamped down and pitched, and she hissed, "Move with me, Sam... You know what to do." 

* * *

Sam nodded while Nicole lectured him on safe sex; thank goodness he didn't have to listen too closely as he already knew all she explained. Again, it wasn't how he'd imagined his first time, but he appreciated her concern nevertheless: it showed him once more that she had a good brain and that she was taking him seriously.

As she finished her last sentence, she rolled the condom on him, and Sam's capacity of rational thinking sank down to zero immediately. For a few seconds, he just froze there, gawping at her, but if he didn't know what to do, his body did, as did Nicole.

She pulled him closer, and he reacted with a moan as he moved between her thighs, nudging her folds apart, the tip of his dick like a heat-seeking missile. When he found his target, Nicole pushed her hips up and he slid all the way in. Pleasure exploded in his lower body and he had to still his motions or it would have been over immediately.

Nicole clenched around him and told him to move, with her, told him he knew what to do. She was right. As soon as he withdrew a little, the incredible feeling returned and he pushed in again, then pulled back a little more, in, out, in. It was like Dean blowing him, but deeper, wetter... Nicole moaned under him and clenched rhythmically, which made him wild, but... something was missing... Right, she'd said earlier...

"Want me to rub your clit?" he panted. 

* * *

"Nnng!! You already are... 'm rubbing it against you while you're... While we... Oh gawd!!" Nicole wasn't above a little self-love every so often and using toys to enhance it, but there was nothing to compare to being with another person and it had been nearly a year. After the first couple of experimental movements, Sam found a steadier rhythm and rocked them both. That was all Nicole wanted, that he ride it out without any need to perform. Later, they could add more specialized, coordinated acts.

He thrust on instinct, narrow hips flexing in short jabs. Every sensation seemed to broadcast across his face, which radiated everything from terror to joy to pure animal lust to sentient comparisons, planning, questions. Knowing it would make it even better for both of them, Nicole clenched her muscles around him, relaxed and clenched again. The ultimate goal here was to lose it, the harder the better. Big enough to stretch her but not enough to hurt, his hot rigid dick slid across the sizzling nerves and she ground against him. 

Sam held on to her tightly and sped up, going deeper when she shifted, trying to find the angle to scratch the itch just so. The sweat of his efforts dripped onto her skin; she let her hands glide over everything she could reach: his long, sinuous back, his neck, hair, the muscles in his arms and shoulders, his ass again. He sucked in a breath and looked at her wide-eyed when she touched him there, so she kept his tight cheeks cupped in her hands. 

"You can lay right on me... Or suck on my tits," she gasped. Pushing up at him with every hard thrust, Nicole reveled in his strength, the way his balls smacked against her ass, and the mind-rending friction of it. "You feel so damned good, Saaammm..." 

They raced to completion. Being that it was Sam's first time, Nicole hadn't expected him to last ten seconds, much less long enough to make her want to fly off the bed with pleasure. She said a silent thank you to Dean and arched her back, letting out a yelp when Sam shoved in at that perfect angle. "Yes... yeah... Aah, aaah... there!" It wasn't the screaming sort of orgasm, more the languid gushing type, and it made her moan like she was dying. 

Sam was coming apart in her arms, trembles chasing through him. She craned her head to lick at his neck. "Do it, Sam, let go. Or tell me what you need." Any second now... 

* * *

When Nicole told him that she was rubbing herself against him already and that he should just let go, Sam's last reservations vaporized. His mind slipped in the background and he was only pleasure as he thrust into her, following her guiding hands on his butt. Her inner muscles clenched and he felt the friction on his needy dick increase. He was so close, and he was going to pull her along!

_"Yes... yeah... Aah, aaah... there!"_

"Yes! Yes! Mmmnnnahh! YES!!!"

Sam's cries joined Nicole's as they rose higher and higher. She reached her peak a second before him and the wild spasming of her tunnel took him to the edge, too. Sam felt his dick grow impossibly while Nicole tightened around him; he thrust again – there, once more...

"Nnnuuugghhhhhh...!!!"

Sam's orgasm was ripped from him while his body lost its rhythm, yet he couldn't stop pushing inside her until his trembling legs refused to move and he collapsed on her panting.

"Gods, Nicole..."

* * *

Too far gone to do anything else, Sam sped up, then his thrusts went all erratic and rabbity and he howled. Impossibly, his dick swelled as it thumped in the tell-tale beginning of his own release, and then the familiar hot liquid rush of seed filled her, caught by the latex barrier. Sam snarled, eyes wide and staring at nothing, holding himself up as he came and came, shuddering his way through it. Then his whole body went limp and he collapsed onto her.

"Sam... geez, that was... wow." For once words defied her. Nicole held him and slowly stroked his body till he calmed. Her own heartbeat returned to almost normal, their sweat beginning to cool. When Sam stirred, she whispered the necessary instruction, that he needed to pull out and get rid of the condom. Holding the base, he slithered free easily and, wrinkling his nose, tied off the rubber. "Just drop it on the floor, I'll get it later," Nicole told him.

Her legs were beginning to cramp, so she lowered them and rolled them to their sides, facing. For some moments, they merely studied each other. They'd only met that very night but Nicole felt they had both become rather unforgettable to each other, not in an unhealthy way, but simply a good, lasting impression. There was really no way, and no need, to verbalize it. "Hungry, Sam? I don't have birthday cake, but there's food in the fridge. Or we could go for round three," she grinned.

* * *

It took them both a while to come down from the high. When they did, Nicole reminded him of the condom. This time, Sam was grateful for her instructions as it went beyond his 'practice'. 

"Wow indeed," he smiled at her. So this had been it, his first time, the deed he'd promised to Dean and yet fought every minute, and then it had just... happened. Suddenly embarrassed, he was glad that Nicole spoke again.

"I umm... Food would be nice, I guess." Suddenly, Sam's conscience reared up. "Nicole," he said and took her hand. "I need you to know... Dean brought me here so I could... we could... have sex. I didn't want to, but I'd promised him at some point that I'd do it... But that's not why I slept with you." He met her eyes. "You're gorgeous and generous. Now that I met you, I really wanted... want to be with you. You're special, and you'll always have a place in my heart." 

Sam grimaced. "Okay, I know that sounds cheesy, but I mean it. I'll never forget you and what we did. And," his voice cracked a little, "I think I could learn to love you, only with the kind of life I'm living... I may not be around much..."

* * *

Sam went from something like gratitude to almost an apology, then he got shy and... admitted he might be able to love her, if he were going to be around. They both knew he wouldn't be, or only rarely. Nicole's eyes stung a little, and she struggled to hold it together. "I understand, Sam. In a different time and place, or in a different life, I could learn to love you, too. What we did was more than just sex." It's not a lie, she repeated to her disapproving conscience. Giving her his virginity, some aspect of it, _was_ special, and he'd risen to the challenge like a pro – multiple bad puns not intended. "So here's my cheesy return sentiment: Thank you for sharing yourself, your body and more, with me, even if it's just today. You know, you're meant for more than small town life – I can sense it. You have this, I dunno, presence. And a part of your heart is already taken. Someday, Sam, he'll get a brain." 

She hugged him tightly again. "I didn't have a clue all this would happen. Not until Dean... well, he didn't spell it out, but it's not hard to read him. I wouldn't have done it as a favor... It was... all you. Seeing you interact, talking with you. We've both lost something, and found something else."

Before she got all emotional, Nicole got up and slid on a robe. "C'mon, get dressed, at least put your pants on." She chuckled. "If either of my roommates, Chelsea or Dana, turns up, you're 18, okay? I kinda hope they stay out all night, though." And she thought to herself, 'and that Dean stays away'. She wasn't ready to deal with him, and doubted Sam was, either. "I need to check my schedule for next week anyway," she gestured at the door, having left her laptop plugged into the modem with an ethernet cord in the other room. "Finals are almost here and classes tend to get rescheduled at odd times and places." 

If he needed a moment to himself, well, she could understand that. Standing made her aware she had to pee, and her mouth was like sand now that the drooling had abated. "See you out there." Waving vaguely, Nicole opened the door, slipped through, and closed it behind her. 

Holy crap, had she just done – and said – all that... with Dean Winchester's baby brother? She really hoped Sam would keep the details to himself – all Dean needed to know was that Sam had done the deed, as he'd promised, from the sound of it under duress. Who made their underaged sibling promise to get laid? Wanting their happiness was one thing, but it sounded messed up when Sam had refused as much as agreed. Not like it mattered now. What the hell else went on in that family? Morbidly curious or not wanting to know, she couldn't decide. 

* * *

As if she could read his mind, Nicole replied, confirming that it had been more than just a casual encounter for her, too. Sam had already thought that, but, insecure and inexperienced, it felt good to hear that he hadn't imagined the bond, whatever it may be called, that had developed between them. When she hugged him again, he was aware that it couldn't last, but it was okay. 

_We've both lost something, and found something else._

Nicole probably had no idea how true her words were, but they were balm on Sam's wounded soul. She left the room before Sam could say anything he'd regret later, and once again, he was impressed by her sensitivity to his emotions.

Looking around, Sam picked the condom off the floor and wrapped it in paper tissues. He had his – and her – juices all over his groin, so he tried to clean himself up as best as he could, and got dressed. Nicole had commented on his outfit earlier, and Sam smiled painedly. The clothes were a present from Dean, and Sam hadn't missed how his brother's eyes had bulged – joined by his groin – when he'd first seen them on Sam. But that was over. Dean had called an end to what they'd had, and although Sam didn't doubt Dean's deep love for him, he also knew that it could never be like before. Nicole had told Sam that _someday, he'll get a brain,_ but even if it happened, it would never be the same.

Sam felt the stickiness in his pants as he left Nicole's room just in time to hear the toilet flushing. He smiled; apparently, boys and girls weren't that different, after all. 

"I, um, I guess I should clean up, too," he smiled at Nicole when she exited what was obviously the bathroom. "And then, I'd love to join you in the kitchen, prepare dinner, and hear more about your schedule."

Sam knew this wasn't going to last, but he was going to soak up the pretense of a normal life as long as he could.

* * *

Nicole shouldn't have been surprised at Sam waiting for his turn in the bathroom, but she was used to living with girls for the last three years, in the dorm and then this apartment. To see a guy standing there was a little unusual. Smiling, she let him pass and went to the kitchen. There was pasta, some leftover soup, and a plate of cooked chicken, beside the ever-present milk, soda, cheese, eggs, and bottles of ketchup and other condiments. The cupboards contained canned and dry stuff. Checking the freezer, she found a lot of pizzas, some meat, ice cream unfortunately belonging to Dana with a 'Hands Off!' note attached, and her own secret stash of chocolate. 

"So then," she announced, when Sam appeared. "I can offer pasta with chicken, frozen pizza, vegetable soup, or I can make French toast. Or, have a look around and see if you like something else better. _Mi casa es su casa._ Then later, we can make cookies...!" Sam's mouth went slack. She blushed, because it was so childish, but who didn't like chocolate chip – or in this case it would be copped up Hershey bar chunk – cookies? "Or not. It sounded fun." Maybe in his family, boys didn't cook... But then who did? 

* * *

By the time Sam left the bathroom, he was nervous again. He knew how to slay monsters but not how to spend an evening with a girl he'd just had sex with. When he entered the small kitchen, Nicole smiled at him, and he relaxed. As with everything that night, he'd take his clues from her, starting with dinner.

"You're okay with any of these?" Sam asked and she nodded. "Pasta with chicken sounds great to me. Actually, it all sounds good, so I'd suggest we have what's the least effort for you." Sam blushed. "I'll help, of course, but I'm not exactly a great cook. When we're on the road, we usually don't have a kitchen, so I'm pretty good with nuking left-overs and junk food, but anything else, you'll have to tell me what to do."

* * *

"Well, easiest isn't always best, to state the obvious," Nicole said, quirking her lips up again. "That's what I wanted, too. And it's already cooked, so just nuking it is all we need to do. Unless you want to add your special sauce," she smacked Sam's arm playfully, "haha. Or maybe you're out for now." 

The poor kid was turning red again. "Okay, I said I wouldn't tease. How about you watch the stuff in the microwave and I'll cook up some marinara – that's Italian red sauce, like for spaghetti. Do you like mushrooms?" 

Pulling the items from the fridge, she decided to reheat the chicken first. It would hold the heat better, and the pasta would get sticky if they left it in too long, or let it sit. "Here," she handed the plate to Sam. "Three minutes should do, but don't start it yet." Their can opener was old and she had to work at opening the tomato sauce. Tossing it in a kettle, she turned on the gas, glad not to have to wait for an electric burner, and added oregano, garlic, parsley, salt, onion powder, and set it to simmer. "Okay, you can start the microwave now, Sam. Put a paper napkin over it first, okay? Chelsea's anal about food splatters in a nice clean microwave." 

Because it was something Sam seemed totally into earlier, she returned to the topic of her classes. "Last semester, at finals time, we had a blizzard, don't know if you were anywhere in the Midwest then, mid-December. School shut down and the electricity was out for almost three days. I couldn't get home from campus, the roads were closed, so I had to sleep in the gymnasium with a couple hundred other grumpy, smelly student refugees. There were some cots and some mats, but I'll tell you, that brings out people's true character. Since I had my books, and there were emergency generators running some of the time, I studied whenever there was any light to read by and aced my tests. That time, the profs didn't even bother to schedule make-up classes." 

"Oops!" She started and gave the bubbling pot a stir. "Wouldn't want to burn it. Ever been snowed in?"

* * *

Sam blushed beet red when Nicole suggested he should add his 'special sauce'. He'd barely caught his breath over that quip when she suggested he watch the 'stuff' in the microwave. Of course, she couldn't know that Dean had always referred to Sam's spunk as 'stuff', and it hurt, but not as much as he'd expected. It was as if being in Nicole's company soothed his wounded heart. He already dreaded having to leave her.

He pushed the thought away and focused on Nicole's instructions, giggling together with her when she mentioned her 'anal' roommate. "In my family, I'm considered the anal member," he chuckled. "Chelsea has nothing to worry about."

Then, Nicole started on a tale how a blizzard had caused a power outage and the students had to camp in the gymnasium for a while. It sounded uncomfortable, although she had apparently made good use of the time, and a part of him envied her for the experience. Spending time with normal people, studying, Sam wished he could do that, but that meant leaving Dean, which he'd never considered before. Now, however, the prospect of getting away from his family and starting a new life became more and more tempting...

Lost in thought again, Sam almost missed Nicole's question. "Snowed in? Yeah, actually, I have." He smiled at the memory. It had happened during a Yeti hunt and he'd have to edit the story accordingly, but when Nicole looked at him with expectation in her eyes, Sam found that he really wanted to tell her.

"We were on a hiking trip, our Dad, Dean, and I, somewhere in Colorado in the mountains. I was thirteen and thought it was going to be an adventure." Sam shook his head. At that time, it was rare that John let him come along. "It turned into one of these 'careful what you wish for' things. I'd checked the weather forecast at the ranger station, but Dad told me to ignore the warning that it might snow, saying that we'd be back by the time it got bad. Dean listened to me, but Dad made him shut up, too. At least, Dean packed another couple of sweatshirts for us." Sam smiled fondly at the memory.

"In the end, we had to spend the night in a cave and wait out the storm. Dean kept me awake by telling me that the bear whose cave it was would return and lots of nonsense. He said we must not sleep because it was so cold, and what he invented about the bear made me laugh so much that I forgot all about the cold. Well, some of the time, at least. We had our feet stuffed in Dean's backpack and..." 

Sam blinked. "We huddled together closely so we could warm each other. Except for Dad," his voice turned bitter. "Dad cuddled with his flask and kept cursing. Next time he and Dean went out for a hike, he wouldn't let me come with."

The microwave pinged. "But I had a great time," Sam finished his tale. They hadn't succeeded in hunting down the Yeti, which had put John in an exceptionally foul mood, and Sam pointing out that he'd warned about the weather hadn't helped. However, there was no reason to burden Nicole with that part of the trip.

"The pasta and chicken are ready, I think. What's next?"

* * *

"Put a little butter on the pasta so it doesn't stick into one big clump. There's a block in the fridge door. What else do you want? Salad? Garlic toast? Although, depending on what's for dessert, maybe we should take it easy on the garlic." Nicole waggled her eyebrows. Surely Dean had pulled his double-meaning-heavy approach to conversation on Sam. The man was a walking, talking urban dictionary when he was horny. They were brothers, besides whatever else, and from what Nicole remembered of her own brother as a teenager, there was always dirty, innuendo-laden banter and laughter from his room, when his friends were over. Besides that, she got the idea that Sam and Dean might have engaged in more than just 'huddling' for warmth, but she didn't mention it. Not and ruin Sam's mood with the reminder of his loss. The mention of his dad being pissy and drinking didn't sit well with him, she could tell. "Hiking in the winter, huh? That's way more 'extreme sport' than I'm interested in. Glad you didn't freeze to death or lose any digits, though." 

Sam was already on to the next thing. "Plates and glasses are there, silverware in the first drawer," she pointed, "bring that stuff and I'll dish up the food." She poured the sauce into a bowl, dropped in a ladle, and grabbed the plate of chicken. Then she returned to the fridge for milk and Coke and put them both on the table. Sam, she noticed, set the table in a different configuration than she'd been taught by her mother. Last, the steaming bowl of pasta. 

"I guess if you're on the road a lot, you don't have a mealtime ritual...? At home, we always had to say grace and all that, but I'm not really religious." Totally inappropriate imagery of Sam bending her over the table while she moaned, "Oh, God!" popped up and she shoved it aside. 

* * *

Blushing again when Nicole made clear that 'dessert' didn't necessarily mean food, Sam bit his lip and went in search of the butter. He wished that Dean would have prepared him for this, the aftermath of sex with a girl. Maybe Dean had intended to do that, but Sam would never know because he'd refused to discuss the topic. 

"Just the pasta is fine with me," he said softly, then followed her instructions to lay the table – or no, her instructions as to where everything was. Nicole didn't tell him how to lay the table, and Sam felt clumsy because he didn't know how it was supposed to look. One didn't learn such things at fast food restaurants, and in some of the dumps they'd stayed in, there weren't even plates, only bowls, and silverware could mean the knife that had been used a few hours ago to carve up a monster.

"No, we don't have a mealtime ritual," Sam said. They ate whenever food was available and they weren't in too much of a rush to get anywhere. If Dad was on a hunt, Sam and Dean would often improvise and share a meal from cans and leftovers, but that was all. Hesitating for a moment, he whispered, "I do pray. Not even Dean and Dad know that, but I'm okay with not saying grace... what?"

Sam looked up in alarm when Nicole suddenly moaned. "Are you okay?"

* * *

"Shit, did I do that out loud?" Nicole slapped a hand over her mouth. "Never mind, I just got distracted." Now was a good time to sit down. Taking one chair, she motioned Sam to another with a plate in front of it. "Here's one from my summer camp days: 'Good food, good meat, good God let's eat!' Not to be irreverent. So, uh..." While she didn't want to invade his privacy – okay, yes she did, she was intensely curious – Nicole decided enough with the flustered act. She was the older, more experienced party. Sam would tell her if something was too much, but his need to talk about it, it being Dean and his life, without actually directly mentioning either, boiled just below the surface. 

"Do you think they'd make fun of you? That would suck. Last I heard, there's still freedom of religion here. I didn't get the impression Dean was an atheist, although he never brought up the subject beyond some out-there story once about exorcisms and holy water, good Catholic staples." She paused, then plunged on. "He wouldn't take off that amulet you gave him. That's some pagan thing, right?" Stabbing a chicken breast, she invited, "Dig in." 

* * *

Nicole seemed embarrassed for a moment before steering the conversation toward religion, and Sam wished he hadn't mentioned that he prayed. He wasn't ashamed of it, but the risk of touching topics he really shouldn't speak about was too high.

"Mmmh, this is good!" He squealed in delight, and it wasn't exaggerated. The meal was much more home-cooked than what he, Dean, and John ever whipped up when they didn't get take-out. 

"I should have paid more attention," Sam smiled before the next spoonful. "Did you buy the chicken or did you, um, marinate it?" He looked at her, not sure if it was the right term.

* * *

"It's leftovers... But yeah, I marinated it, then cooked it in the oven." Nicole couldn't help being a little proud. Talk about a glowing review. "Food-gasm?" she inquired, another grin making her cheeks ache and her mouth water – from real hunger this time. She speared some of the sauce-covered pasta on her fork. "Mmmm!" 

They sat for a bit, silent but for the noises of chewing and swallowing. This boy had rarely sat down to a real dinner, he said. "My roommates and I don't cook together or eat together much. Maybe pizza or Chinese on weekends. Most of the time, 'real food' is reserved for holidays and when we see our families. That's college life, among other things. Crazy hours, lots of Ramen noodles. Must have been fate or something that I got a wild hair and wanted chicken a couple of days ago."

Sam didn't want to talk about Dean after all, Nicole assumed. She glanced around her familiar kitchen. Some might find it outdated; she was just glad to have a place. How did Sam see it? It wasn't huge, they didn't have especially nice or matching furniture. The house itself, built in 1906, had character in ways new construction didn't, heavy doors and framing, plaster instead of drywall, vintage light fixtures. The kitchen had been put in more recently, when the owners had divided the house into apartments. "So, uh, Dana's aunt owns the place, meaning we get a good deal, but it still takes the three of us to scrape up the rent money. Working even half-time is too much with my class load – my work-study job at the campus bookstore's only two nights a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays." Nicole prided herself in only having to ask her parents for help with money twice, other than she was still on their insurance.

"Where are you going to school right now, Sam? If you are, that is. How do they know what grade to put you in, if you have to move all the time? When you're younger, it mostly depends on your age. High school's different, and it seems like they keep increasing how many credits you need to graduate."

* * *

So there were a few things a hunter's life and a student's life had in common, after all. "Ramen noodles, yeah, I hear you." This made Sam not only smile but beam at Nicole. It was silly, but it felt good, and he relaxed again, having tensed when the topic of religion had surfaced.

Her work at the campus bookstore sounded like a job Sam would love doing himself. Spending a day, even an afternoon or a few hours, with books other than on monsters, must be heaven. And Nicole got paid for it, apparently enough to survive. Maybe there was a chance for him, too. He filed the information in his brain and focused on the question she'd just asked him.

"Right now, I'm not going to school. Maybe it's just for now, maybe not at all while we're here. It depends on when our Dad needs to go on the road again. If..." He sighed and shook his head. "We're staying with a friend and I've asked Dad so many times if I can stay with Bobby and finish school. Bobby supports me, but Dad won't let me. Plus there's... I don't want to leave Dean, you know?" 

Since this was a moot point now, anyway, Sam considered applying to court to become an emancipated minor, but he couldn't give them the reasons why he wanted away from his family – there was no doubt that after telling his story he'd succeed in leaving them behind, but only to spend the rest of his life in lock-up. Right, not a thought he wanted to dwell on while he was with Nicole.

"Whenever I go to a new school, they test me and then decide which grade to put me in. I think I'm doing okay," Sam blushed. He had mostly straight A's and sometimes ended being the youngest in his grade. It fit in so far that he knew he was more – mature? – than his classmates, but he'd happily forego his knowledge and life experience in exchange for being a normal kid.

"I can't wait to finish High school, though," Sam smiled.

* * *

The configurations of emotions flitted over Sam's face again. Nicole got the impression that he repressed a lot more than he revealed, more than the average Joe. Dean had been like that, too. Again she wondered what sort of secrecy rules applied in their family – and why. "Not that I had the same experience as you and not that it's my call, but if it were, I'd agree with Bobby, too. I was one of the youngest in my year but only because my birthday's in August. The cut-off is September first here. I don't know what a person has to do to jump grades – it's almost unheard of. The philosophy is all that kids do better socially if they stay with their own age-group." 

She leaned back in her chair and looked over at Sam, wondering at the advanced placement. "Child psychology isn't my focus, but from what I've experienced, the really high-IQ kids usually don't fit in, anyway. What do you think?" 

* * *

"Well, given our transient life, I'd say that changing schools every so often didn't do my social competence much good," Sam said dryly. "I guess I'm okay with superficial camaraderie and I get along with most people, but I never had a real friend. Other than Dean, of course, but that's... different. Besides, he hates school – or at least that's what he claims anyway – and sticking around with an older brother all the time wouldn't have won me favors with my classmates."

Nicole asked about high-IQ kids, and Sam shrugged. "I wouldn't know about the really intelligent ones. That'd take time I never had for observing people and, um, I guess, the school system. Often, bright kids get bullied whereas jerks are worshipped like heroes, but I'll never understand why."

Sam emptied his plate and looked at Nicole with hope in his eyes. "Is there any left?"

* * *

Sam had such a gift to paint pictures with words. She could see him, eating lunch alone, smiling tentatively at a group of peers who stared at him, appraising. Somehow, she doubted he'd be wearing the clothes he was tonight. Things would immediately be different if he did – kids were that superficial. "It seems to be the dynamics of high high school. Isn't Dean done with school by now, by the way? But yeah, everywhere's the same. Rich kids are usually popular, from what I can see – money gives them confidence, along with nice cars and clothes and all the cool gadgets. Natural athletes and really good-looking people, too, because they're highly visible. Science nerds and math-letes, goths, goaties, band geeks... They're polar opposites. And then there's everyone else, the masses, just waiting for it to be over so they can go get a life." She snorted. "I don't miss those days. I was lucky enough to have a couple of good friends. One was Chelsea. We've known each other since middle school." 

But then Sam, bouncing his knee, asked if he could have more food. There was another helping of everything. While his body wasn't down to skin and bones, he was thin enough with hollows under his hip- and collarbones, she wondered if they went hungry at times. "Sure, right there. You could use it – you're still a growing boy, right?" she leered. "Eat up, the rest is yours. So what's your favorite... I was going to say food, but how about favorite anything-at-all? And here's one I haven't figured out yet – why people always ask each other that stuff." It felt good, to just sit there, replete and relaxed, and talk. 

* * *

"Oh yeah, Dean is finished by now, but he still hates school, especially when Dad makes him give me a lift in the morning and pick me up after classes all the time." Sam grimaced. As much as Dean's constant complaining annoyed him, he was going to miss his brother's company on the daily commute.

Nicole filled his plate again, and Sam gave her a happy smile. "Thanks. I wasn't kidding you when I said this was good." He ate a few bites while he pondered her question.

"Curiosity? Wanting to know about someone? To find out if the other person is a potential friend? I dunno, but I like to find out about people. Maybe that isn't my 'favorite', but it comes pretty close. Then there's learning in general. Whenever I hear about something, I usually want to know more." Sam snorted. "My teachers call it 'having a scientific and open mind'. Dean calls it nosy and annoying when he gets to answer my questions, but I think he secretly enjoys it." Or enjoy- _ed_ it, for that matter.

"My favorite of everything, well," Sam smiled painedly, "you've probably guessed that'd be Dean." He focused on his food again.

* * *

The answer Sam gave was honest and raw. Nicole wasn't sure if she should address it, or how. Her incomplete training told her that Sam had thrown it there for a reason. "Yeah, Dean... How could he not be? Some siblings can't stand each other. You two, though. He's been... Everything." 

Young Dean had probably done everything from potty train Sam to teach him to read to show him by example to act like a boy. Sam had already mentioned keeping him fed and clothed, giving him rides. And sex, directly and indirectly. But now, Dean was legally an adult and Sam would be in a few short years. "People usually don't live with their brothers and sisters when they grow up," she mentioned. Sam needed to realize this, if he hadn't already. "They move out, go to college or get jobs, get married... I know you don't really have a home to move away from. But... someday, will the two of you _not_ be living together, and I mean just as brothers, family members, anymore? What then?" 

That might be too heavy a subject. Nicole had wondered before why Dean hadn't disentangled himself from their dad and his strange nomadic lifestyle the second he turned 18, if not sooner. Now she knew why. 

* * *

"Dean and I... we're very different," Sam said slowly. "I dunno what would have happened if our Mom hadn't died and we hadn't grown up on the road. Maybe we'd have never gotten close, who knows? But as it is... This must sound strange, but he's been more of a parent to me than my Dad ever was."

Suddenly, he was angry. "Dean shouldn't have been charged with the responsibility for me. He was four when Mom died, _four!_ Not only did he lose his mother but his whole life broke down, and on top of all that he had to look after me. He was the one carrying me from the house when the... fire started." He had to stop himself or he'd spill the whole story. Biting his lip, he looked down at his plate.

"As for our future, I don't know, but somehow I'm not sure we'll have one after today, at least not together." Sam looked up again, his eyes narrowed and his voice fierce when he continued. "I made a decision today, and you helped me, for which I'll be grateful for the rest of my life. I'm not going with Dad and Dean any longer. When they leave, I'll stay behind with Bobby and finish school. Um," he blushed, "maybe, also, we could meet again..."

* * *

Seeing Sam again? Until now, it hadn't been a remote possibility. And... that had been almost a relief. A fifteen-year-old boyfriend? An almost six-year age difference? If they were in their thirties or older, it wouldn't be a big deal, but they weren't. It dragged in the further complication that Sam seemed mature for his age... Thanks to a fucked-up, non-existent homelife. The kid probably needed therapy. But then, Dean had been with him, or whatever, with over four years on Sam, hadn't he? There was no doubt in her mind Sam was in love with his brother. But really, or as the result of massive emotional and sexual co-dependency? 

Two wrongs and all that. She was so torn. In the end, Nicole didn't speak to it. Other factors beyond her control would decide, anyway. The last thing she wanted to deal with, even less than Dean, was a pissed off parent – the real one – who she might have a few choice words for if it came to that.

"Do you think he'd let you, your dad?" Nicole asked, laying her hand on Sam's wrist. If that was what Sam wanted, and was told 'no', he might do something stupid. He'd sounded so angry. "You said before that this Bobby offered to let you stay and to look after you, and your father said 'no'. What will you do then?"

* * *

Until two weeks ago, Sam would never have considered leaving Dean, but now, with his whole life upside down, it was an option. After tonight, it was quite possibly the only option. If John didn't agree – and Sam knew he wouldn't – Sam could threaten him with revealing a few choice facts about their life. Not that he'd do it, but if push came to shove, it might help him make his point. This was, however, nothing he could tell Nicole about.

"I don't think he would," Sam said, "but I'm no longer a small child that he can bully into doing whatever he wants. I'm fifteen, and I can go to court and ask to become an emancipated minor. With my school records, I guess I'd have a good chance to be allowed to decide for myself that I want to attend one school instead of changing every few weeks or months. And with a place to stay at Bobby's, I really don't see how Dad could win such a lawsuit."

He thought for a moment. "What do you think?"

* * *

"It's probably the only way," Nicole had to admit, "if he won't agree willingly." 

Having no children or even younger siblings, she'd never felt 'motherly' toward anyone, but anyone knew that parental instinct, even for fathers, was supposed to be strong. Sam and Dean's father, despite that he'd given his kids nothing of stability or the slightest chance at normal, must be more than a little protective, to not have given up his kids to relatives or foster care years ago. Protective... or possessive. Or even obsessive. It could be either, and considering how adamant Sam was to get out from under his father's control _now_ , how he'd used the word, 'bully'; she wasn't so sure it wasn't another chapter in the Winchester manual of what-not-to-do. 

"You should try to stay without having to go to court, first. It can take weeks to get in front of a judge. Even first-class felons have to wait their turn. Your dad could simply sign the papers and have them notarized, but I have the feeling it might not be that easy..." While she didn't want to feed into Sam's obvious resentment toward the man, it was a very real element. 

"I agree that you'd have a very good chance of being emancipated, if it comes to that. If that's what you really want..." Nicole took a deep breath. Should she even get involved? What if the whole truth came out? Her career could be over before it started. "Last year, I took a Sociology class that covered child custody issues. I know what to do. Theoretically." 

* * *

For the first time in his life, there really might be a way out! Nicole thought so, too! Sam felt a little light-headed, and then it all came crashing down on him again. The last two weeks with endless fighting or, worse, Dean's face, carefully schooled into being devoid of expressions. Sam's final attempt at winning Dean back and Dean kicking him out again, ending with being as much as frog-marched to Nicole. Talking to her, pouring his heart out, then making love with her, followed by dinner.

It was too much. Suddenly, it felt as if the walls of Nicole's kitchen were about to cave in on him. She looked at him with concern in her eyes, but Sam raised a hand. "No, I'm... I'm good. Well, not really good, but okay. I appreciate your offer, but maybe... I think I should go now. Sorry for ending the evening so abruptly, but... would you hate me if I left and gave you a call in a few days?"

* * *

"No, I won't hate you, Sam! Maybe be a little disappointed. Look, I won't try to stop you but where are you going to go at this time of night? It's," Nicole squinted at the hands of the clock on the wall, "just after 1:00 AM. Why don't you stay till morning?" She slid her hand up Sam's arm, giving his bicep a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to, but you can sleep on the couch if you'd rather. Dunno if you found this in your life, but problems tend to not seem as insurmountable, after a good night's sleep." 

* * *

"I'd love to stay," Sam admitted softly, "but I don't think I'd be good company. It's been a long day and I'm beyond tired – don't get me wrong. Meeting you was the best thing that happened to me in a long time." He smiled, then turned serious again.

"Nicole..." Sam hesitated. "Can I ask a favor? A big one, and of course you can say no. I was wondering... if I could sleep with you?" He blushed. "I mean sleeping, as in closing eyes and zonking out, nothing more. It's just, I'm not sure I want to be alone."

* * *

Willing to bet the closeness and warmth would lead to more than sleeping, either shortly or in the morning, Nicole kept that off her face. "Sure you can. The food's all gone – let's put the dishes in the sink. I'll take care of them tomorrow." 

Getting up, she stretched, extending both arms overhead and standing up on her toes. Their plates, glasses, silverware, and serving bowls only took one trip to the sink. "Good lord, these wooden chairs. I think my ass fell asleep! Your company is fine, but I'm a little tired, too." After another moment, she admitted, "It'll be a first for me, too. I've never actually slept, as in sleeping, with anyone before."

* * *

Warmth spread in Sam's belly and his dick twitched, although he knew he was too tired to get it up again right now. Besides, he'd just announced that he wanted to sleep and not have sex. Nicole also admitted to being tired, but Sam grinned when she said her ass fell asleep. "I could pinch it to wake it up if you like," he suggested with a wink to make it clear that he was joking.

It was weird to be so close to someone he'd only just met a few hours ago. With Nicole, it had felt simply right, though. Strange enough, Sam thought that her allowing him to share her bed for the night was more intimate than them having sex. 

On the other hand, he'd always thought he could never have sex with anyone other than Dean. Dean, who didn't want him anymore. Dean, the only person Sam had ever shared a bed with. Sam gritted his teeth. _Dean, who had no place here tonight._

"On a practical note, I don't think I should sleep in this shirt and jeans. It's me and my underpants only, so maybe I'd better take the couch, after all." The moment he said it, he hoped that Nicole would say she was fine with him shirtless. Or that maybe she had an old and large tee that he might fit into. "Um, do you maybe have a spare toothbrush?"

* * *

"I'm not afraid of your skin. In fact, I rather like it," Nicole returned. He just asked to sleep in her bed, why would he try to get out of it already? She was a little confused. Could be that Sam was, too. "No pinching my butt. You can do other things to it, though," she winked. 

Sam looked slightly panicked, so she turned to look at him straight on, and said, "I get it. Sleeping only. I probably have some sweats or a tee-shirt or something. You're taller, but I'm bigger around. And don't worry, I don't wear pink. I'll be in there." Nicole pointed in the direction of her room. Smiling once more, she walked down the hall. Sam would make up his own mind, but Nicole hope he'd follow. Having another person next to her tonight after these rather emotional last few hours was just what she needed.

* * *

"Well, I... kinda... like your skin, too," Sam stammered, blushing again. "I just thought... Never mind." He grimaced. "Sorry to make such a fool out of myself. A tee shirt would be nice, um, I tend to sweat a lot, and..."

He must sound like an idiot. "I really want to sleep with you, I mean... sleep. Just thought you should know what you're up against..." And, god, was he glad that they hadn't had burritos for dinner!

Nicole smiled at him before she walked to her bedroom, and he suddenly stopped worrying. "Thanks," he said, catching up with her. "For listening. For not making fun of me – other than when it really is funny." He beamed at her.

"Just one more thing: I'd really like to brush my teeth first."

* * *

She could only smile again over Sam's thanks, nodding that she understood. 'Do unto others...' Hadn't she had that drilled into her? All Nicole had ever wanted was someone to listen without criticism or sarcasm – she could do that for Sam. Had done that for Sam, it dawned on her. Someone should. But then he asked about brushing his teeth. It jogged her memory, and she realized it was the second time he'd brought it up. Some host she was! If it was a hint that she should do the same, well, that made her blush.

"Oh yeah, right, you said that... But then...." There'd been that moment of it being all up in the air, too. Wasted adrenaline slithered around inside her, making it hard to think. "I was to the dentist's last month, they always give you a new toothbrush and stuff, but I haven't used it yet. I'll get it for you." 

It was silly to be nervous now. Maybe it was a little too real. In the bathroom, Nicole rummaged in the middle drawer, the one designated as hers, and found the toothbrush, plus a travel-sized tube of toothpaste and dental floss. "Here... Still in the package – I haven't touched any of this yet. All yours. The toothpaste is the sensitive-teeth kind, I hope that's alright. Help yourself to anything else you need, okay? When you're done, I'm next. I'll just go find you something to wear to bed while you're...." She was kind of babbling, and made herself shut up. First pointing to where he could find washcloths and towels, Nicole backed out of the room and closed the door to give him privacy.

* * *

"Thanks," Sam smiled when Nicole handed him the toothbrush. "Dean has made me clean my teeth every morning and night for as long as I can remember. When I was little, he probably even brushed them for me." He frowned. "Dad only cared because of the money it would have cost otherwise," he said bitterly. "One day, Dean chipped a tooth and Dad ignored it until the school nurse sent him a letter to have it fixed." For some reason, they couldn't leave that town yet, and the threat of CPS was apparently enough to make John pay for the dentistry. He'd complained loudly about the costs and how afraid Dean had been of the numbing shot. Dean had later admitted that he could have taken the pain – which Sam knew was true – but the fact that nobody had told him what the dentist was about to do had scared him more than the prospect of facing monsters. Sam had hated his father on that day and in hindsight. What kind of life were they subjected to that made an eleven-year-old fear a Novocaine shot more than a werewolf?

Trying to take his mind off such gloomy thoughts, Sam grinned at Nicole. "The sensitive teeth kind, huh? I remember this one time when we had no money and used hair shampoo to clean our teeth. Trust me, any toothpaste is better than slimy peach goop."

* * *

Before she got the door shut, Sam resumed speaking, so Nicole opened it up halfway again to listen. The more she heard, the more she was certain their life had been far rougher than she'd previously imagined. Young Dean, though she wasn't happy with him now, being scared of a shot of Novocaine, probably berated for it by this... She was beginning to picture their father as a surly, shifty-eyed old mountain man type, shotgun-toting, drunk and muttering, bearded, wrinkled and probably wearing bib overalls. Considering how he wouldn't get Dean's tooth fixed until it was bad enough an outsider noticed, she found it likely he was missing some of his own. How would such a person come to own the Impala? Dean had revealed the man had been a Marine. Could be that he was like an aging drill sergeant in civilian clothes, concerned with nothing but instant obedience. Either way, her heart was heavy for the boys. 

She tried to smile over Sam's retelling of their makeshift toothpaste, but it felt fake. Wanting to go hug him, and at the same time, afraid he'd take it as pity, she chimed in, "Gross! Did it burn? Dunno about you, I've had my mouth washed out with soap more than once for cussing, but never with shampoo. My mother favored Ivory soap... That's the worst." 

* * *

"Ivory soap? Yikes!" Sam shuddered. "And your Mom washed out your mouth for cussing? That's... Our Dad did things to us that he shouldn't have done, but usually he had a reason for it." Why did he feel that he had to defend John now? But it was right. Even though Sam often heartily disagreed with John's 'reasons', their father _was_ trying to protect them. 

"I guess you don't use Ivory soap, then?" Sam winked, again attempting to lighten the mood. "Oh, and which towel can I use? I should probably wash up a little." He blushed again.

* * *

"Nope, no Ivory for me," Nicole chuckled. It even seemed funny, in retrospect. "I developed a definite... distaste for it when I was seven and dropped the f-word in front of a bunch of visiting relatives. My brother laughed his ass off, but my mother was not pleased." She snorted and winked. 

"Use any towel you want." Then she reconsidered; Sam's family, since they didn't seem to have money for even basic hygiene products sometimes, couldn't have too many spares, probably only one each. "Here. How about a blue one?" Nicole took a small hand towel, and then, not sure if he intended to shower or what, a large one as well, and set them on the edge of the sink. "And washcloths are in here," she pointed at the cupboard drawer, "there should be a matching one, if you want it." She smiled again, and stepped back. "I'll just..." 

* * *

"Thanks," Sam took the towels and closed the door behind him. Cleaning up didn't take long and he entered Nicole's bedroom only a few minutes later.

"I was thinking," he began, "that I'd better keep my clothes in here. I mean, if I have to take a leak during the night and run into one of your roommates, I'd better be dressed, right?" He smiled. 

"You know, I never had a sleepover as a kid, but this is how I'd have imagined it."

* * *

"I'm hoping they won't be back, but I don't think you'd scare them too much – they both have boyfriends." Nicole grinned, "A strange man in his underwear in the middle of the night. Never thought about it like that." 

Dean had always left sometime between when she fell asleep and morning. He'd probably used her facilities, but she'd never given it much thought. Having Sam here was just sort of... natural. "We're not talking about cute boys – much – and putting make-up on each other, otherwise it's not too different," Nicole supplied. "I could pull out the Ouija board, but I'm too tired." 

* * *

Sam didn't point out how he'd react to a stranger – any stranger – at their place in the middle of the night. Throwing salt was the most harmless action he could think of. And the Ouija board Nicole had mentioned was probably kids' stuff, but it could also attract evil spirits. He immediately recognized his dilemma – how could he have forgotten about protection? Had he lost his mind? Only one way out of this, and for Sam that meant honesty, at least as far as he could admit to.

"Nicole, I'm, um, superstitious. Would it be okay if I sprinkle some salt on your windowsill and in front of the bedroom door? I can't really explain it," he raised his hands. "It's, well, when I was little and scared of monsters, Dean promised me the salt would keep them out. I know this is... weird, but I don't feel comfortable without it."

Sam felt bad for making what Dean called 'puppy dog eyes' at her, but as annoyed as he was with his family, now that he'd remembered, he wouldn't forego this most basic protective measure.

* * *

Salt lines? Nicole had read somewhere that people who had pagan beliefs believed salt was a protection. Strange, Dean had never asked her for anything like this, but then he'd never stayed the night. While Nicole hung no credence on it, it wasn't harmful. She shrugged. "Oh...kay. I'll go check what we might have." 

Returning to the kitchen, she opened a cupboard door where they kept dishes. Nothing. The salt shaker was on the table from earlier, but that couldn't be enough. Where they kept baking ingredients, behind the cooking oil, was a pint of salt, one of the round containers with a pour spout, almost full. She brought it to Sam. "Will this do?"

* * *

"That's perfect," Sam smiled. The relief was probably showing on his face as well as in his body language, and he hugged her on impulse. "Thank you so much." Almost reluctantly, he released her, already missing her warmth – but then, he'd share the bed with her, and he couldn't wait for it. He didn't want to think too deeply about his sudden hunger for human contact, but it was definitely there.

"I'll do the windowsill while you're in the bathroom, and the door when you're done. Um, and I'll change clothes while you're gone, too."

* * *

"You're done in there, then?" The night pushed down on her, oppressive, and Nicole yawned. "Just gotta brush my teeth." She did a quick but thorough job, applied a layer of deodorant, something she'd never do if she was alone, and turned out the lights. 

As promised, Sam had put down a line of salt on her windowsill, the grains a fuzzy barrier that glittered like snow. As she entered the room, he'd just finished. Because he wanted to put more down on the floor, Nicole crawled into bed, under the rumpled covers, and watched expectantly. "What's it supposed to ward against?" 

* * *

When Nicole left for the bathroom, Sam undressed down to his boxer-briefs and shrugged into the tee-shirt she'd laid out for him. Then he applied the salt line on the windowsill. It was probably paranoia on his part, but he wasn't taking any risks – in particular not with Nicole involved: he'd never forgive himself if she fell victim to something hunting him. Collateral damage was what they called it, and Sam swore to himself that he'd never be part of that.

Nicole returned, smelling of mint and something sweet. She made herself comfortable in bed while he repeated the same meticulous salt procedure in front of her door. "It's mainly to protect me from bad dreams, I suppose," he tried to sound nonchalantly. 

Once he was satisfied with his work, he stood and stretched, then sat on the bed and looked at Nicole. "Last chance to change your mind," he said. "Oh, no, of course you can always kick me out later, if I snore or something." Sam grimaced. "Dean always complains that I'm too warm – when we were little we often had to share a bed," he hurried to explain. "But he also keeps claiming that all women have cold feet, so..." He winked, still a little nervous as to whether Nicole really wanted him to stay.

* * *

Leave it to Dean to say that. She bet he was a bed-hog. "Really? Well, I don't, as long as they're not sticking out of the blankets, so don't steal all the covers!" Nicole laughed. 

She moved over a little, and held up the blanket. Sam was acting all nervous again. He didn't balk, exactly, more like he expected her to kick him out with every move. Is that what he got at home these days? Maybe so. Break-ups were difficult enough, without having to look at the other party every day. If Dean was mean to this sweet kid, she'd find some way to break his freckly balls, herself. "C'mon, I won't kick you out, I promise. Want you here, with me." 

* * *

Nicole held up the blanket and Sam slipped underneath. It took all the courage he could muster, but he moved close to her and wrapped an arm around her. Feeling giddy to share a bed with her, he chuckled. "This is nice," Sam sighed happily and grinned. "The best way to stop me from stealing the blankets would be to hold on to me," he teased, hoping he wasn't taking liberties Nicole wouldn't give.

"You know," he hesitated, "I'm totally new to... this. You're so nice and I know that you won't hate me if I misstep. Just... if I do anything inappropriate, I want you to tell me. And then tell me how to avoid it next time."

* * *

"You're fine, Sam. Relax... I'm new to this, too, remember?" It was so nice, Sam's arm around her, the closeness of his body and just having someone there. Nicole tried to follow her own advice, and let the tension bleed out of her limbs. 

* * *

Nicole relaxed, her body soft against him. Where they touched, Sam felt warm, and he wasn't surprised that his dick reacted by filling out. The way they were curled up around each other, there was no chance that Nicole would miss it – a part of him hoped she'd miss it, as it was embarrassing, but the larger part of him wanted her to notice and be happy about it. Sam didn't feel a burning need, it was more a deep sense of comfort. He wouldn't say no to making love with Nicole again, but for the moment he was more than content to just have her in his arms.

"I had no idea girls could be so... good," Sam said softly. "The way Dean talks, he makes it sound as if sex is all there is, but I think he's afraid of becoming attached. Maybe he has a point, you know? I already hate the thought of leaving in the morning, how's that for attached? Maybe it's easier for him this way, but I sure don't want to miss this, being with you, talking and cuddling."

* * *

All of that rang true. "It's nice for me, as well, and I'm not looking forward to you going, tomorrow. But we still have tonight, for sleeping, or..." Nicole felt a certain twitch and rise against her hip. It could be a simple physiological response to warmth and safety. 

"Sam..." she murmured, hugging him closer. Her breathing hitched. Heat flooded into her belly, tingling outward from there. Sliding a hand down his back, she slipped it up under the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing, fingertips stroking the long, taut muscle along his spine. 

* * *

"Mmmmhhhh..." Sam hummed softly, enjoying the warm hand on his back. If he were a cat, he'd purr, he thought and smiled. Pressing closer against Nicole, he played with her soft hair, then traced her neckline with his hand.

"You know," he whispered and kissed her cheek, "all of a sudden I'm not sure I'm so tired anymore."

* * *

"Found a little energy, huh? Me, too," whispered Nicole. She continued to caress Sam's back, pressing a little harder and delighting in the play of the muscles following her up and down. She went a little lower, to just where the top of his cheeks began and divided. "If no one's told you, you have a really nice butt." 

Sam's tentative touches to her neck set her on fire. It was too fast a reaction, she knew that, and didn't move much for fear of Sam getting skittish again, but her nipples hardened to painful points under her own tee-shirt. Nicole tilted her face up a little and brushed her lips against Sam's. Under the covers, she slid her leg over his. 

* * *

"You like my butt?" Sam smiled. "That's unfair because I can't really reach yours very well..." Nicole kissed him and before he could react, she slid her leg over his, grazing his growing erection.

"Mmmmhhh..." he hummed again and opened his mouth so that their tongues met and gently played with each other. When she pulled back for breath, Sam looked into her eyes. "Will you lay on me so I can feel your whole body against mine? Then I could also feel you up and give you my opinion on your butt," he teased, again slightly insecure that he was insulting her, but also confident that Nicole would tell him if she didn't like what he was doing.

* * *

For a while, they just kissed. Sam wasn't as aggressive with his tongue as Dean, who sometimes plied the thing like a precision instrument. The slow tease was already starting to burn, and Nicole gave it back in little licks while she squeezed Sam's ass through his shorts. 

Hearing he wanted her on him, on top of him, sent more urgent frissons of excitement down deep into her pelvis. "On your back," she ordered with a grin and another kiss. "And I expect you to be thorough in gathering intel for your opinion." Nicole didn't wait; she rolled on top of Sam, laying her chest down on his carefully so her boobs didn't get mashed, and lining them up so her crotch, already throbbing and damp, settled directly over his cock. 

She moaned and rolled her hips, so slow, feeling out every angle of the rotation, her body hyper-aware that this was 'other' and this was male. With every breath, his scent infused her air. If they'd been naked and she was riding him for real, not just rubbing against each other through their clothes, this was exactly how she'd start. "Saaammm..." There was no denying she wanted him again. Spreading her thighs around his hips, Nicole looked up, heavy lidded, into his eyes, and ground down. 

* * *

"Intel gathering, you mean like for a science project?" Sam laughed and pulled Nicole's head down gently to kiss her again. Her heat against his groin set him on fire, as did the soft cushion of her breasts on his chest. He didn't think it was possible without some rearranging but he wished their nipples would touch. 

Sam ran his hands down her spine while they continued kissing, then up again. He wanted to take his time before the urge, which he knew they'd both soon feel, took over. Caressing each vertebra, his fingers finally settled on the base of her back before he traced a trail to her hips and then – finally – on her butt. He squeezed the firm and smooth flesh, groaning when she instinctively pressed against his groin, and the heat flared up even more.

They fell into a rhythm, Sam pushing up and Nicole grinding down, encouraged by Sam's hands on her cheeks. He knew he was leaking and if he interpreted her sounds right, so was she.

"Please tell me you've got more condoms!"

* * *

"More fun than a science project!" Nicole mock-protested. Sam's touches, deliberate, sensual, and at the same time, like he was educating himself on her body, pulled her nerves taut. Unable to help the reflex, she arched into his hands when they finally slid down over the small of her back, then her ass. Long fingers splayed all around each cheek. "Yessss!" she hissed. "More... Love that!" 

The room was already starting to spin, thanks to the intoxicating endorphines that rushed through her veins. His pulse fluttered under her tongue as she licked and nuzzled Sam's neck. "There's more condoms in the drawer. I'm so... happy you asked, that you want it again." Pulling her shirt off overhead and tossing it aside, Nicole pushed Sam's tee up his chest. His soft skin was perfect against hers; she laid her torso down again, chest to belly meeting. 

It was subtle, but soon Nicole felt the slight scrape of Sam's erect nipples. "My god, Sam... That's just..." Slithering down, she ran her tongue around the areola and then sucked the tiny bud into her mouth. Her own stiffened to the point of pain. Below her, Sam jolted and struggled for breath. "You like that, huh?" It was obvious, between the hard cock fitted up against her slit and the hard nipples, and goosebumps raised on his chest and arms. Nicole kissed the other light brown, salty nub, flicked it with her tongue, then sucked again. She so wanted to put marks all over this boy! 

* * *

"Way more fun!" Sam gasped; he couldn't agree more. He loved science, but Nicole was another experience entirely. Grudgingly, he had to admit that Dean had a point: sex with a woman like her was fantastic. It wasn't the same as sex with Dean, but the fact that she accepted him as he was, didn't push him away, more than made up for it. Still, he'd have felt bad if he wouldn't see, hear, and feel how much she enjoyed being with him, too.

Sam's hands continued to explore Nicole's butt. He ran his fingers from the small of her back over the cheeks, delighted when he discovered dimples, After tracing her skin, he kneaded her gently, amazed to find warm, firm muscle, which probably meant she was a runner. She hissed that she loved what he was doing, and, with a speeding heart, he grew a little bolder. His fingers returned to the base of her spine, and then caressed the crack in teasing little downward steps, waiting anxiously whether she'd stop him.

She stopped him in the end; Sam didn't think it was her intention, but when she pushed up his shirt and began tonguing and sucking his stiff nipples, he jolted and let out a long moan that left him breathless. 

"Nuughhh! That I like this – gnnnaaahh! – is the understatement of the century!"

* * *

Well if that was the case, Nicole was going to give it to him till he couldn't take any more. Sam writhed up against her and she used her body to hold him in place, nipping then lapping one nipple, then the other, then back. 

"Wanna give you... Whatever you want..." she panted. "Tell me." Sam had his hands all over her backside, so good she had to clench her muscles to keep herself from trembling. Blowing a breath out across his chest, seeing how it flushed across the widest part, Nicole wiggled a hand between them and slid it down his belly. The skin was so soft there, too, a thin layer of flesh and muscle below, but vulnerable; that Sam trusted her with himself was a thing of wonder. She wanted something else, the most tender parts of him, and then, something she'd only heard of. 

He and Dean, if Sam was telling it true, they'd been together for a year or longer and the only act they hadn't completed was actual penetration. With her tonight, Sam hadn't avoided putting his mouth to good use. Surely he'd done it to Dean – the thought made her ears burn. But what had Dean done for him? Two guys, one of them had to... be the girl. There was nothing lacking in Sam's maleness but no way would Dean... would he? Fingers, tongue, Sam had to have had those on or in him before... didn't he? Would he let her...? Nicole bypassed his erection, fondling his balls, so dense and tight already. Then, she moved on, still holding his eyes, licking his chest and the two live-wire hot spots, exploring behind the sac, into the crease beyond with it's raised seam. Sam's eyes were huge, his mouth swollen and slack. "Open your legs," she whispered. 

* * *

Waves of pleasure fanned out from his nipples and made Sam moan and thrash – until Nicole held him down with her body, which aroused him even more. He knew he was leaking heavily and thought it would be a good idea to put a condom on, when Nicole wiggled her hand between them and proceeded... _down,_ he couldn't breathe – or think – any longer.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Sam whimpered. "I need... want... please touch me, Nicole!"

* * *

That Sam asked for it, whimpering like he'd die without her touch, prompted Nicole to more urgent, localized action. She slithered down his body, using her hips and then shoulders to shove his legs wider. Sam tossed his head, fists tangled in the sheet. It almost pained him, to give her access, at first, she could tell from his little grunts and averted eyes, but she could be pretty damned convincing with her tongue. 

He had already leaked so much. Bitter on her taste buds as she swiped up the dribbles when she drew his pre-come dotted underwear down. Using the flat of her tongue, Nicole bathed the steel-over-silk length of him in a long stripe, and kissed his sac, mouthing at the contents before following his crack further. She gasped for breath; it was so hot, that he let her... a musky tang filled her senses at her first quick, darting licks. The strong band of his ring muscle kept her out, so Nicole flashed her tongue there, across the puckered center and around the border, her hands kneading his inner thighs as she worked. 

* * *

When Nicole slid down his body, Sam held his breath. His eyes watered; he blinked and fisted the sheets, dizzy with excitement – would she go down on him again? He had to bite his lower lip to keep from thrusting against her mouth when he felt her tongue on his pulsing erection. Somehow she'd managed to pull his underwear down, then off, and now she spread his thighs, and...

Sam's body went rigid when she kissed his scrotum, nipping at the tightening skin and licking over his balls. How could it feel so good? He moaned deeply, glad that no roommates were present because he was sure that the walls wouldn't keep the sounds in the room. 

But she wasn't done with him yet. Nicole's tongue explored further, _downward._ The thought that it was good he'd washed thoroughly after their earlier sex flashed through his mind, and then his instincts took over. Nicole licked a broad stripe along his taint and Sam tensed, with desire as well as nervous anticipation. Nothing had ever got him off as hard as when Dean had touched his hole, slipped a finger or two inside and... 

"Please don't stop, but don't go in," Sam struggled to tell her between moans and grunts. _That,_ he wasn't ready for, not even with Nicole. He wasn't sure if she'd planned it, but she didn't attempt to penetrate him. Instead, she licked around his entrance, teasing him. Sam began to shake, and she licked right across the tiny hole, then prodded it with her tongue, but didn't push in. 

It took all the effort Sam could muster not to beg her to tonguefuck him, but he knew he couldn't handle it. Even without the memory of Dean, what she was doing was bringing him to the edge in record time, and a single stab inside would finish him off immediately. As it was, he'd cum in a few seconds anyway, without Nicole ever touching his dick, he was about to explode.

"'m close..." he gasped. "Very, _VERY_ close...!"

* * *

God, Sam was gorgeous like that, legs flexed and spread around her, his skin sheened blue-ish from the streetlights' fluorescence coming through the window. _Please don't stop, but don't go in_ encompassed what she'd planned. It didn't take long for Sam's body to reach for its climax. 

When he warned he was seconds from losing it, Nicole abruptly sat up, but rather than taking her hands off and leaving his control to chance, she took his balls in one and wrapped her other around the base of his erection, ringed them, and applied downward pressure. She'd seen Dean do something similar to hold off from coming too soon. "I'm glad it feels good, but not yet, Sam. It's our last shot tonight, so to speak." 

As much as she wanted that fine young cock inside the core of her, to scratch the itch nothing else, no toy or her fingers, could satisfy as well, there was something else she could give him. She'd only be a surrogate, and it was even possible Sam wasn't interested in... pitching. Still, they'd already done it in the typical male-female fashion and he'd had no trouble, once he found within himself it went further than just sex. In everything, she'd had to convince him, mostly without words, wait him out, give him tastes. Anal sex would take initiative and a lot more trust. 

Once Sam seemed more in control, if less happy, Nicole met his eyes, then leaned over him to dig in the bedside table's drawer again. She showed him a condom packet, and then a tube of KY, and handed them over. "You know about what lube's for, right?" she whispered. Without another hint or word of instruction, she got on all fours beside him, lowering her head to her crossed arms and pushing her knees wide. 

* * *

Sam's relief when Nicole drew away from his hole by far outweighed the disappointment he couldn't help over his delayed climax, but her next suggestion stunned him.

His heart racing, he stared helplessly at the tube in her hand. Of course, he knew what lube was for! He'd bought some as soon as he'd first considered that Dean might one day agree to Sam's demand. And although he'd never dared to suggest it, he'd secretly dreamed of being Dean's first, making love to him, stimulating Dean's spot with his dick. But now, with Nicole offering, he wondered if he'd lost his mind. Could this really be happening?

Sam's mouth was dry when his brain found words again. "Are you... Do you... Would... You'd really let me...?" he whispered, his voice shaking with shock and awe.

* * *

"Yeah, I want you to... If you want to." Nicole shifted enough to reach his nearest body part, his shoulder, to kiss the Vee'd cut of the deltoid. Oh, Sam liked that idea alright, practically drooling through his stuttering. "I'm counting on that you have an idea what to do. You're not small, you know, and it's been a while for me. So go slow, okay? But get behind me and..." She arched her back, which pushed her butt upwards more. 

* * *

Sam was so excited that his hands were trembling when he accepted the tube from Nicole. "I... I want to," he stammered. "And I know what to do, but only in theory." He chuckled nervously. "I never thought I'd... get to do this, you know? It's... I want to, and I want to make it good. There's..." Sam swallowed, his mouth was still dry. "But I want to see your face when we do it."

* * *

It was so touching, how sincere he was, how genuine. Sam wanted to be connected to his lover, she reflected, no matter what the act. "Um," she felt her face grow hot, "It's easier if I'm on my knees, but if you want to do it face to face... I've never tried it that way. I... I guess I'll have to trust you." 

Nicole edged over again, brushing her breasts across Sam's chest, embracing him. "C'mon..." she pulled his long, slender form along as she rolled onto her back. She liked extra pillows on her bed, and grabbed one now. Lifting her hips, she stuffed it under her backside. It should help the angle that would be necessary. Glistening eyes took in how Nicole positioned herself, feet planted, knees pulled up and out, the most exposed she'd ever felt.

* * *

_"I guess I'll have to trust you."_

Sam felt himself freeze. The reason why he wanted to see Nicole's face was because he didn't trust himself: if he wasn't able to see her eyes, he feared he'd simply close his own eyes and pretend that she was Dean. Shaking his head to push the thought away, Sam swore to himself that he wouldn't think of Dean. Nicole deserved so much better than him – both Dean or Sam, actually – anyway!

"I'll do everything I can to earn your trust," Sam promised solemnly. "And I trust you to tell me if I'm doing anything wrong or not enough." She nodded and he relaxed, to the point that he could smile again.

Still insecure as to how to proceed, Sam looked at Nicole shyly. "I would... I'd like to lick you," he said. He'd done it to Dean two weeks ago, which had made his brother crazy with lust. Sam hadn't come anywhere near Dean's prostate, so maybe this was something a woman could enjoy, too. 

"Is that okay?"

* * *

Breathless, Nicole squirmed. She'd been gone down on, of course, but not like that. Unsure if she'd really get anything out of it, she decided it couldn't hurt to try. After all, Sam had nearly come from it. Heat flooded through her, remembering his desperate moans and quivering limbs while she'd licked his rim. "...okay..." 

* * *

"Thank you," Sam whispered with another smile. Before he could change his mind again – or be overwhelmed by his own courage – he laid between Nicole's spread thighs. 

Only two weeks back, he'd lain between Dean's thighs, looking in awe at his brother's tiny pucker, just as he was looking at Nicole's now. This time, there were no heavy balls above the crack but her glistening slit. Sam's heart beat picked up its pace when the musky scent flooded his memory of earlier, how he'd found – and shared – such incredible bliss in her body. Would he be able to make this as good for them both as what they'd done earlier?

Sam lowered his head and moved his face closer to her back entrance. It looked like a delicate flower, which made him smile again. He took Nicole's butt cheeks in his hands to ground her, relishing the feel of her muscle under the warm skin, and let his tongue flicker over the small hole. It quivered in response and Nicole gasped. 

Pulling back a little, Sam asked, "Do you like this?"

* * *

"Gnnaah!" Being licked _there_ transformed Nicole into a quivering mess. Sam's tongue was warm and wet with the slightest rasp. It – he – had performed minor miracles on her clit earlier. Now, all along the ring muscle of her back entrance, she throbbed and twitched, like her body didn't know whether it wanted to relax and open, or clench down tight. The involuntary flip-flop between the two opposite reactions made her jerk, thrust, withdraw, and then do it again. It tickled, till it didn't anymore and became pure turn-on.

Sam got his hands around her butt cheeks and held her still. The unspoken request was not to break his nose with the pitching of her hips; she got it, tried with limited success to stop flailing. Overloaded with the sensation of him licking so many previously unexplored surfaces, the little puckers and that stubborn rim, Nicole cupped her breasts and pinched her own nipples, swollen and begging for attention. 

"Go in... Please! Tongue, fingers, I don't care... Just please... In!" Her juices must be drowning Sam – she was so wet down there it was almost embarrassing as well as all over his face. It would take some work to get her stretched and opened up enough to take his dick, but she was ready now.

* * *

He needn't have asked. The grin that spread on Sam's face probably looked more than stupid, but he didn't care. Not only did Nicole like what he was doing, she asked for more, and Sam would give her everything he could.

Continuing to lick, he circled the quivering pucker, just like he'd played with her clit earlier. Nicole's groans made him leak heavily, and he wasn't the only one. He made a mental note to tell her about his wet nose later, sure that they'd share a laugh, but right now, he had other priorities.

Nicole pressed back against him and begged for a finger or his tongue. Sam knew he had to stretch her open and from what he'd read it would need more than a single finger. He'd begin with his tongue, then a finger, and watch and listen to her response, hoping she'd tell him when she was ready for more.

Having made up his mind on how to proceed, Sam let his instincts take over. He licked a few more broad stripes up and down her crack, then placed the tip of his tongue against her hole and pressed the wet muscle in as slowly as he could.

* * *

Though she'd asked for it, Nicole grunted in surprise when Sam's pointed tongue entered her. And then she wailed, the soft, slick, wiggling penetration inching in, retreating, opening her. "God, Sam... More!" Her belly cramped with heated need. Every instinct told her to flip over and present her ass, but she stayed in the position Sam wanted, rolling her hips up since arching would mean he wouldn't be able to reach her. 

"Now I understand... why you... liked it so much," Nicole panted, every attentive nerve in her body focused on the wet caress of Sam's tongue, and his lips where he sucked on the edge of the muscle. She grabbed another pillow and let one of her thighs drop down on it – her legs were trembling in the effort to keep them up and open. "But... I, oh! Can you... can you please finger me open? Need you, get me ready...!" 

* * *

Sam hadn't intended to let her beg for more. He'd simply enjoyed what he could do to her with his tongue, but when she announced that she wanted his fingers, he was happy to move on.

His hands were trembling a little when he popped the cap of the KY, but he didn't drop it, and most of the slippery substance ended in the palm of his hand and not on the sheet as he'd feared.

"Gonna give you more," Sam promised breathlessly as he slicked up his middle finger. It took only a mild push to slip it into Nicole's body, and Sam gasped at the sudden heat. How'd he missed that with his tongue? Maybe because his tongue was warmer than his finger, his mind, never silent, provided, but he ignored it; there'd be time for thinking later. 

Sam was so hard at the prospect of sinking into the tight sheath that he felt a little dizzy; there was no blood left for his brain, apparently. What was it she'd asked him to do? Right, finger her open... 

The finger he was moving in and out of her wouldn't have hurt or stretched because its diameter was similar to his tongue. From now on, he had to go slower, though. After licking around his finger in her hole, Sam carefully pressed his tongue inside. Nicole tensed, but then he felt her relax around him and she wailed again.

* * *

Nicole stared up at the darkened ceiling; her vision couldn't define all four corners. It was lighter by the windows, and in a yellow-orange circle above the bed, from the bedside lamp. Heat. Light. That's what it felt like between her legs, at the entrance that Sam invaded with just one lubed finger, then he added something... his tongue...? 

Whatever, it felt slippery and incredible. Sam wiggled in and out several times, going as deep as his finger would reach. It didn't hurt – she knew what to expect – it was just that usually this sort of prep was functional, to allow for what was about to happen; she'd never had it actually turn her on. Not even with Dean. He'd never licked her hole either, and she wondered, if, between the two of them it had always been something he reserved only for Sam. 

Then the stretch began, as Sam added another digit. There was that pulling and pressure, so far nothing she couldn't handle. Nicole bore down and accepted the second finger, breathing through it. 

* * *

They were a perfect match: Nicole relaxed gradually while Sam slowly opened her up with his fingers and his tongue, and lots of the lubricant. When he had three fingers inside her, he continued to stretch her entrance, but removed his tongue eventually.

If the sounds she made were any indication, she needed it as badly as Sam did: his dick was throbbing, and his balls were beginning to ache a little from holding back. Torn between his desire and the wish to make it last, he kissed Nicole's inner thighs before moving again.

"Let me...?" Sam whispered as he licked from her back hole along the taint to her pussy, not sure if he was welcome here after where his tongue had just been.

* * *

"Uh..." Sam was three fingers deep in her when he tongued his way from her hole, forward over her perineum. "As much as I love your mouth, not sure that's a good idea," she whispered. "I'm no germaphobe, but it's a delicate chemistry." Or so she'd been told: always wipe front to back and all that. Boys were so lucky not to have to worry about it. Maybe all the bacteria in the mouth negated that from the anus; she couldn't be sure. Now was not the time for research.

Looking down, fingers sliding into his hair, Nicole blushed to see Sam's face shiny with her juices, which leaked a slick trail down her crack to join the abundance of lube he'd applied while he'd worked in three fingers. Though the guardian ring gripped them tightly, she felt wide open, for sure open to his dick. Not just that – to Sam inside her, on top of her, between her legs, taking her, loving her...

"How're you doing?" she asked, grinding down and squeezing the intruding digits. The anal sphincter muscles were so much stronger than their neighboring counterparts. "Want more..." She wasn't sure if that was a statement or a question. "It's all for you."

* * *

Sam groaned when Nicole clenched around his fingers and his vision turned white for a second. Having his dick in _there_ would kill him, in all the good ways. "Oh my god," he moaned and pushed the digits in deeper once again, almost swooning when almost every last drop of blood rushed from his brain downwards.

However, a little fraction of blood must have remained in his head, and he didn't like what his last functioning brain cell was telling him. Still, there was an overwhelming desire to lick her clit, to kiss her, and that meant...

"Back in a sec," Sam mumbled as he carefully pulled his fingers out. "Could you... grab a condom while I..."

He was already half-way to the bathroom and missed Nicole's answer, hoping she didn't hate him now. Strangely enough, Sam didn't care if he ran into one of her roommates now with his dick close to bursting, all that counted was the bottle of antiseptic mouthwash he remembered.

The stuff tasted disgusting, but Sam was convinced that it'd kill anything. _Might be worth to try on monsters,_ he made a mental note as he hurried back to Nicole's bedroom and closed the door behind him. A quick check that the salt line was undisturbed was pure instinct, and then he faced Nicole. 

_Nicole._ His _lover,_ it suddenly hit him.

Suddenly shy again, Sam stammered, "I, um, sorry, hope you're not mad at me, but I want to kiss you, so..." He stood next to the bed, wringing his hands, waiting for her reaction.

* * *

Nicole raised her eyebrows and gasped at the loss of contact when Sam backed off and got out of the bed. A second later he was out the door, naked, sweaty, hard cock tucked tight against his abs, sweet little buttcheeks on full display; he hadn't taken his clothes with him so he wasn't leaving but... what was he doing? He'd already used the bathroom and she didn't suppose he could take a leak very successfully with a raging hard-on. Plus, he'd asked her to find a condom, so... 

A moment later he was was back. Mystery solved, with the whiff of antiseptic mouthwash she caught when he approached. Nervously, he wondered aloud if she was mad at him for his side trip. "Not mad at all. Just a little confused for a second. You're so... considerate, Sam." Nicole held out her arms, condom in hand. She hadn't moved much, was still bare and splayed on the bed, in need of her young lover. "Need you so much..."

* * *

"Need you, too," Sam whispered. Nicole wasn't mad at him! His heart beat faster when he knelt on the bed next to her and smiled. "Need to kiss you first," he said and took her face between his hands. "I should be clean now, but let me know if you'd rather not..."

* * *

"It's not the taste I mind." Nicole tilted her face up between his hands and smiled. "It's... girly stuff. Never mind." For once she didn't feel like educating him right then; she'd rather kiss his lips and draw him to her. "I'd rather you _did_." 

* * *

"Oh yesss!" Sam was curious what Nicole had hinted at, but he could always ask her about 'girly stuff' later, if they felt like talking. Right now, however, there were other things on both their minds.

The warm feeling in his belly deepened when their lips touched, softly at first, and then it felt as if they were trying to taste each other's tonsils. Sam moaned when the slightly rough surface of Nicole's tongue reminded him what the texture had done to his dick earlier. Had she felt the same rapture when he'd licked her clit? 

He sucked on her tongue tip and let his hand wander between her thighs, caressing the soft inner skin upwards to her mound. She was so wet! For him! Sam held his breath as his fingers searched for the nub that she'd taught him to lick for her pleasure. Would she like his fingers on it, too? One way to find out.

Sam found the pulsing little button and tapped it lightly.

* * *

This time, they kissed like they were starving for it. Sam crawled back in bed and lowered himself down to lie next to Nicole, while they explored each other's mouths thoroughly, till every tooth and ridge was mapped. Nicole's lips swelled and tingled, just like other parts of her body. Once in her human sexuality class, they'd discussed at length why humans kiss on the mouth. The consensus was because the lips and tongue were loaded with nerves, like fingertips and genitalia, it simply felt good, and was sexually stimulating if a person was in the mood to begin with. 

Beyond that, Nicole could've cared less about the end results of their debate. Sam's hand slid up her thigh till he reached her wet folds and found her clit; she pushed against his hand, moaning his name and "...oh god..." She had no other words. With shaking fingers, she tore open the condom packet but didn't glove him yet. Once she got that vital, rigid, pulsing flesh in her fist, she didn't want to give up touching it. The short trip to the bathroom must have taken the edge off a little – Sam thrust shallowly through the ring of her fingers, beads of pre-come appearing in tiny spurts. His fingers slowly massaging her clit, his kiss, the way he stared intently into her eyes or at her body all served to unravel Nicole till she was shaking and near the point where if she moved her hips just another half inch, she'd start to come. 

"Sam... I'm so fucking close now," she gasped, hoarse. "Wanna come on your cock... need it...! You prepped me good, you still want it, right?" He did; the surging blood under her hand told her he was more than ready. Probably she should've done it before, now she was a quivering mess – Nicole got the condom out of the packet somehow and reached down with it. 

* * *

The tiny nub swelled and pulsed under Sam's hand, just like a miniature dick, and he wondered if Nicole ever thought of what it would be like to fuck someone with it. Of course, she couldn't, unless... He broke the kiss, suddenly needing to catch his breath. The idea that Nicole could fuck his slit was way too 'out there', but it was there. Before he could think about it any further, however, she asked him to stop touching her because she was getting too close.

"Yeah," he gasped hoarsely, "I still want it, want you." One look at his trembling hands told him that he'd need her help with the condom again. "Put it on me?"

* * *

Because he asked, he wanted her to, must love her touching him as much as she had in this short time come to love doing it, Nicole fit the condom to the head of Sam's dick, pinched the latex tip, and unrolled it carefully. Dusky red glans, then the flesh-tan band of retracted foreskin, then his satiny, flushed shaft, which twitched, impatient, under her hand. Sam held so still, other than the expand-contract of his chest. At the base, the thickness made her drool; Nicole supposed it was half due to being this turned on and half, thanks to being a Winchester. 

As soon as the bottom band was all the way down to his public curls, she fumbled for the lube. "We're gonna need this... I dripped all over myself but... Damn." Giving him a quick coating, Nicole tried to steady her breathing as she lay back again. This was it. She'd never had anal sex not hurt at first, and Sam insisted they do it face to face. The last thing she wanted was to scare him off with horrible facial contortions. One thrust into her pussy and he'd been balls deep in a slippery tunnel made for it, that craved every inch of him, instinctively. Nicole had enough experience to understand it would be good later – they just had to get through the first invasion. In some way, she hoped that since Sam, by confession, had wanted this same act for himself but been denied, he'd be sympathetic to pacing himself at first, anyway. 

"It's different than... before. The other way. It'll take you a little while to work your way in." Maybe it was silly, she was supposed to be older and wiser but she was still nervous. Her body ached for him though, ached for the contact and intimacy and eventual orgasm. "Make love to me, Sam." 

* * *

Sam breathed hard when Nicole rolled the condom on him and applied more lubricant. There was apprehension in her eyes, and suddenly he wasn't sure if they really wanted this. He knew it would hurt her, at least in the beginning. Sam had been ready to accept the pain for himself, to take it from Dean, but now he wasn't sure if he could do this if it hurt Nicole. He began to wonder if that was why Dean had refused him, that Dean couldn't bring himself to cause Sam pain.

The thoughts took only a second to process, and Sam had difficulties interpreting the expression on Nicole's face. She told him that it would be different, not saying that it would hurt her, but she was nervous, and yet she asked him to make love to her.

She leaned back and instead of climbing on top of her, Sam lay down next to her and caressed her belly with his index finger. "I'll be careful," he promised and kissed her lips. "I'll go slow," he kissed her again, "but I'm new to this and..." Sam smiled. "...and I trust you to stop me if you change your mind."

Nicole nodded, and after another kiss, he crawled on her body and brought his hips down on hers, holding his upper body up with his arms so he wouldn't crush her. Sam's dick slid between her thighs and he could feel her pussy wet against his pubic bone while his shaft rubbed along her crack.

"Feels so good," he whispered against her ear and kissed the lobe. 

* * *

" _You_ feel so good," Nicole whispered. Sam settled himself above her, up on his elbows, and she put her hands on him. God, she loved to touch every inch of his soft skin! While he kissed her sweetly, she caressed his arms and shoulders, then down his hairless chest, brushing the hardened nipples. Sam's lubed erection skimmed over her hole as he rubbed against her. It wasn't the extended rimming he'd lavished on her before, but reminiscent, the stretched muscle more sensitive to touch than usual right now. 

"Want you in me," she told him, sure it was what she'd said earlier, and he'd done her so good, a natural. A natural empath as well, she thought, wrapping her legs around his waist. Not the freaky kind, but he was obviously reading her. "Don't worry, I won't break. I promise, I'll tell you if it gets to be too much." He seemed to need her word on that. "Do it, Sam." 

* * *

"Yeah," Sam rasped. "We'll do it. I want to be in you." He kissed her lips again, then slid his tongue over them until they opened and her tongue met his. Teasing her mouth, Sam canted his hips so that he'd push against her entrance, but with the slick on his cock it wasn't quite as straightforward as he'd imagined. 

"Sorry," he said, as the frown on his face was followed by a grin while he tried to line up again and failed. "I'm not delaying on purpose. Could you give me, um, a hand, please?" Sam winked. With anybody else, he'd have felt embarrassed for what he perceived as clumsiness, but with Nicole, everything was easy and natural.

* * *

Right, he'd need a guiding hand for this, for there'd be resistance. As slippery and rigidly upright as his dick was now, it would take steadying to breach her hole. Nicole hitched her bottom up a little more, and reached down between them with one hand, the other arm curled around Sam for leverage. 

It was a strange angle for her, made even more-so by the stubborn upswing of the twitching phallus in her hand. After more wiggling around, Nicole was ready to snort with laughter. "Look at us, so intent on our buttsex adventure. Now if only we can figure out how to put tab A into slot B, or maybe it's tab A into the black hole, I dunno," she giggled. 

Ah, there, the rounded glans kissed her rim, and she could tell it should work if Sam... "Okay, push forward... Push it in. Slowly." Her heart beat wildly. Keeping her hand tight around him, close to the base but not all the way down, Nicole willed herself to relax, to open, to let him in. The gentle prodding increased as he inched forward. With every little whimper, which she couldn't help, Sam stopped till she moved a little and then he'd let himself thrust in a little more. 

They progressed only millimeters at a time; sweat ran from both. The stretch became a burn, hot then icy; the more Nicole tried to control her body's attempts to keep him out, the more her anal sphincter contracted. Before, his fingers hadn't been a problem, and she wanted this so why the corporeal rebellion, she had no idea. "Gotta give me a minute," she breathed. 

Her muscle rippled strongly, as if to flip her the bird, but then it finally ceased with all the clenching. "In and out, shallow, just a little..." 

* * *

Nicole reached down and held Sam's dick against her entrance. At first, it slipped in her hand, making her giggle, and he joined her laughter. When she told him to push, Sam felt more relaxed than before, but he immediately tensed again when he pressed forward and noticed her pain.

It took ages, and although Nicole encouraged him to proceed, Sam softened a little. He alternated between pushing for another millimeter and kissing her gently while she struggled to adjust to his size. Dean had always told Sam that he was a 'big boy', and made it sound as if that was something to be proud of. Right now, however, Sam wished he was smaller so he wouldn't hurt Nicole so much.

Finally, her sphincter slipped past his glans, and Sam gasped sharply. Nicole tensed again, asked him to give her a minute, and Sam stopped moving. For the first time since they'd started this, he felt her incredible heat around him, even more than when they'd made love before. The clenching muscle was so tight that it almost hurt him, and yet, he had to concentrate to not give in to the urge to push ahead.

Sam smiled and kissed Nicole's face while she gradually relaxed around him. When she suggested he make shallow thrusts, he was ready for her. Rocking in a little further, he made sure to not pull all the way out so that the thickest part of him remained inside; now that the fat glans was in and Nicole's tension slowly bled off, he slid easier than before, and the hot and tight sensation set every nerve ending Sam had on fire.

He continued his shallow thrusts until he felt his balls against Nicole's body, and Sam knew that this was as deep as he could go. He adjusted his body position so that he rested on his left arm without crushing her, and smiled. "Wanna try something," he whispered and licked along the shell of her ear. Sliding his hand between their bodies, he found her wetness and stroked his middle finger over the pulsing nub. Nicole's eyes widened, and Sam kept stroking while pulling out and sliding back into her body, as slowly and carefully as he could. It made him tingle with pleasure from his toenails to the crown of his head.

"Oh god," Sam moaned. "Please tell me that this feels good for you, too!"

* * *

A little at a time, Sam fitted himself into her – Nicole would have sworn she felt every raised vein, every feature as he went in and in. "So full," she crooned, and it was true. His kisses and then his tongue on her ear, which made her entire body break out in gooseflesh, were welcome distractions from the stretch and burn. But as her body adjusted to the invasion, she concentrated more and more on the closeness and being joined. Sam's balls brushed her ass and she realized he was fully inside her now, and there was nowhere to go but out. Then his finger touched her clit and she convulsed; she'd needed that so much. 

"Oh god, yeah!" Nicole's legs slid down from Sam's narrow hips and she planted her feet on the mattress, wide apart and braced. Her slick was all over them, and it just kept coming, as he massaged the tiny, rock-hard, and dare she say, violently erect little nub. Now that the more difficult part was out of the way, she needed to feel his body, straining against her and delving deep. She needed to push back against him, receive it, take it, his lust and his love and give him the same in return. 

"You're in, all the way it, I can feel it. Oh, fuck, you're big, love it." Deliberately, she clenched and released a few times. "You can move, please move... Fuck me!" Sam preferred the nicer terms, but Nicole was fast going out of her mind. 

* * *

Nicole clenched around him and Sam felt his eyes roll back in his head at the heat it caused, spreading from his dick through his whole body, a shock wave of an intensity he'd never have thought possible with a girl – how he wished Dean hadn't broken up with him! Sam would let Dean inside him so that his brother could feel what Sam felt now... and Sam immediately felt guilty for the thought. He was with _Nicole,_ and right now, she was closer to Sam than Dean would ever be. He owed it to her to not think of his brother while he made love to her. 

Or... while he fucked her, as she put it the moment Sam thought it, and she was right. Maybe he didn't love her, but he'd give her all he had to make this good for her, just as she was giving herself to him. 

"Yeah," he gasped while pulling back experimentally, moaning from the exquisite sensation of the slide and the tightness around him. "Wanna move!" Now, _that_ was the understatement of the year; Sam felt as if he'd die from need if he stopped moving. 

While Sam was still attempting to make small thrusts, Nicole's hand on his butt pulled him in, indicating that he should go faster. After a moment's hesitation, Sam gave in to her need as well as his. His finger on her clit settled into a more determined rhythm than the soft strokes he'd delivered before, and he kissed her hard, fucking her mouth together with her ass – and fucking it was, pure lust and need.

Sam felt that he was getting close and he knew there was no chance he could hold back for long. Breaking the kiss for a second, he panted, "'cole, 'm close... I'mma... Gnnahh! Can't hold on much longer... Please," Sam's voice changed to a desperate whine. "Wanna feel you cum, Baby!"

* * *

Sam labored above her, sweet and slow and so intent and earnest about making it good for her. That boy needed to _move!_ Grabbing his butt gave him a clue, and his rhythm hiccoughed into something faster, the slides in and out, longer. Nothing hurt, she just felt full, stuffed full of cock and she loved it. Sam kept his finger on her clit – she could easily come from that alone if he kept going. 

His strokes got rougher. Nicole's moaning picked up in pitch, cut off every time he bottomed out. She arched, trying to get the head of his dick against the spot that would start her fireworks. It had happened before, with Dean, but she'd been on her hands and knees with her head down. By now, Sam was trembling from coordinating his efforts, as well as nearing the end of his tether. Even now, he insisted she go first. Hearing him call her Baby, a definite Dean-ism, turned her whole body into a mess of craving. 

"Sam..." Nicole rasped between frantic kissed. "I'm close, too... There's this spot inside... Stop worrying about me. Close your eyes, do your worst, slam the hell out of me. That's how you make me come." Sam looked at her in something like disbelief. "I'm serious. Don't like anything better... than my man... losing his grip till we're screaming." Now she was getting 'handsy', pulling at him everywhere she could reach. If only she was taller, stronger, and dammit, male. Still she could, if in a different way... "I'm gonna come all over you, Baby." 

* * *

Only half of Nicole's words registered in Sam's head, but the tone of her voice made it clear that it didn't matter: he couldn't miss her urgent message that she wanted him to go deeper and harder until they were both screaming. 

_That_ was something he could easily provide! He vaguely noticed that she told him about a special spot inside her, but he wasn't sure he'd heard that right, and he really didn't have the brain capacity to dwell on it or ask again.

Sam picked up speed and slammed into Nicole as if there were no tomorrow. She immediately caught on and pushed back hard so that he slid deeper with every thrust. Suddenly, she screamed, and Sam thought that maybe he'd hit the spot she wanted, so he aimed for it again and again until he felt her beginning to shake under him. He knew then that she was about to lose it and that nothing could stop her. Needing to become one with her, Sam moved both his hands under her butt and shoved into her with sharp and increasingly uncoordinated thrusts, grunting each time he slammed home.

The tingling in his dick spread out to his ass and balls before it took over his whole body, and then he was there. "Nicole, god, Nicole! I'mma... cum... noooowwwuuuuughhh...!"

* * *

Their bodies strained together, breasts bouncing, balls smacking, again and again as Sam took her permission to heart and let loose. God, and he was such a thing of beauty, hot young male partaking in this act for the first time, the contortions of his face as he grimaced-smiled-snarled in sexual rhapsody, plus all that need for human connection he'd demonstrated all night – it was almost too much, like if he were any more, his halo would start to glow. But that was crazy-talk, and she quashed it. 

Nicole marveled for half a second at the noises coming out of her mouth. Loud and porn-y. Not high-pitched squeals, but it sounded like awesome sex, because it was. While she wasn't a subscriber to the G-spot myth, per se, there was something to it. Had to be. The rub of his dick against that hot spot was torture, such incredible sexual torture, only because she needed to come so badly she was nearly in tears. When Sam changed angle and thrust still more forcefully, her moans turned shrill. 

With Sam on top of her, giving her everything he had, Nicole's pent-up orgasm suddenly flashed outwards from where it had been lurking in the muscles along the backs of her thighs. Sam yowling that he was coming along with the strong spasms of his ejaculation finally threw her over the elusive edge. Heat flooded her inside; her limbs locked but her pelvis bucked and thrashed to wring every single needy, blissed-out, clamped-down sensation to its own climax. 

In the end, she ran out of air and darkness loomed. Sam collapsed on top of her and she held him there. The sex, fucking, whatever had been mostly about experimenting, giving Sam something he wouldn't otherwise be able to have. Now that it was over and there was nothing left but aftershocks and the come-down, Nicole didn't want to let him go. She held on like they belonged together. 'Just a little while,' she told herself, lightly stroking his back. 

* * *

Sam's body was shaking when he collapsed on top of Nicole. He made to move off her, but she held him in place and he didn't fight. Wrung out physically, he felt emotionally wrecked as well, close to tears and needy – only Nicole's gentle hands on his back kept him grounded. He didn't want to move, wanted to stay in her arms forever, wanted to never have to think again – his brain was mush anyway.

Eventually, he remembered that he _must_ move, though, because his dick was softening and he couldn't risk losing the condom. Besides, it was a miracle that Nicole hadn't suffocated under his weight. Sam groaned as he moved his hand between them to hold on to the condom while he pulled out, almost crying with the loss. 

Earlier, after they'd made love for the first time, she'd told him to dump the thing on the floor, so he tied a knot in it and dropped it. There was a box with tissues on her night stand, and he smiled at Nicole when he grabbed a couple to wipe himself clean, making sure to remove all traces of his seed. 

Laying down again, Sam moved as close to Nicole as he could, but not on her. He suddenly felt exhausted and knew he could conk out in seconds, and he wasn't going to squash her. 

Nicole looked at him, her eyes dark with the aftermath of passion or tiredness, or both. Sam kissed her lips again, gently this time, too sated to feel desire. "This..." he began, his voice mellow until he laughed softly. "We were awesome, right?"

His laughter turned into a yawn. "Sorry to repeat myself," Sam said, the sparkle still in his eyes although he could hardly keep them open, "but I'm not gonna last long... Stay awake, I mean..."

* * *

After some while, during which Nicole drifted in and out of sleep, Sam dealt with the condom and sheepishly wiped himself off with some tissues. Nicole could well feel how she was a mess of slick and sweat, too, and once he'd rolled off, performed a similar ritual. The struggle to keep her eyes open soon won, and she fell into a hard sleep with Sam curled up against her, warm and perfect.

* * *

FIN


End file.
